


Dogs With Bad Raps

by columbine_and_asphodel (onlycrooks)



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Case Fic, Choose Your Own Ending, Dog!Danny, Gen, M/M, Major Character Injury, Misleading Tags, Multi, Person of Interest, Shapeshifting, Stealth Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-07-27
Packaged: 2017-11-10 11:00:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 54,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlycrooks/pseuds/columbine_and_asphodel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Five-0 (Steve, Chin, Kono and Lori) is called to a seemingly impossible situation, there's one aspect no one can predict: a pit bull who seems to understand more than he should. Featuring Dog/Shifter!Danny</p><p>Note: This isn't a furry or bestiality fic, not that I'm bashing them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Basic

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story with two endings: dog and shifter. To stay with dog, only read through chapter two. For shifter, keep going to chapter three.
> 
> [Daniel, because he's definitely a Staffy or APB](http://staffy-bull-terrier.co.uk/img/apbt.jpg).
> 
> Before I forget, this used to be tagged as Steve/Cath, but as it doesn't end that way and has Cath playing a not-so-likeable part, I thought it kinder to McRoll shippers not to have this among their fics. On that note, many apologies for my horrendously awkward het. I've never been able to get it right. Please don't judge me. I wasn't designed for bodice rippers. Waistcoat trashers(?), I can (sort of) do.

It begins, as most cases do, with a call.

Steve picks up the phone, hears Kono's hurried _, "Forget Paperwork Tuesday; we've got a hostage situation... abandoned warehouse... ex-wife, their daughter and the new husband..."_ and is already in his truck, the siren screeching and tires burning as he peels out, racing to the address Kono had nearly stuttered out by the time she draws her first calm breath. _"It's bad, Steve," she says. "This guy... every time any one gets within twenty feet, we hear him shoot inside the warehouse, and right now-"_ She breaks off, and Steve hears the ra-tat-tat of gunfire. " _Right now, we can hear the girl crying."_

The former SEAL's fingers tighten further, despite already being white-knuckled on the wheel.

"What's Lori got to say about him?"

_"I'll put her on."_

Steve nervously taps his fingers on the wheel, needing to move faster despite already going eigh- ninty in a forty five zone. He steps on the gas and lets his truck move faster, wishing that instead of this bulky machine he had an actual pursuit vehicle, one that wouldn't require him to cut the speed so much and could actually turn without spinning out. It's a thought he's had constantly but never winds up doing. His truck serves him well enough and has its uses; besides, buying a car is a pain in the ass.

Lori's voice interrupted him.

_"Steve, you there?"_

"Yeah, Lori, I'm here. What've you got on this guy?"

 _"Nothing good,"_ she answers, voice grim. _"His name's Richard Kerring- middle child, kind of faded int the background, got mostly B's and C's in school, nothing outstanding but hardly a failure. His teachers did all report that he didn't like to work in groups and refused to put real effort in what he did."_

"In other words, you're thinking this guy's smart, just couldn't be bothered to show it?"

 _"Exactly,"_ the profiler confirms. _"He's had a bunch of dead-end jobs, mostly physical labor, but about five years ago he joined his local police department, only to go off the radar last month. See, a few years ago he married, had two kids with, then got divorced by a woman who moved here from England. As is usually the case, the ex-wife got almost full custody, and Kerring got the minum of already limited visitation rights. He wasn't happy about it, judging by the number of times he'd fought to get more time, but no judge ever granted him more rights. Then his younger kid, a boy who wasn't even eight months old, died."_

"Let me guess. He died last month?" Steve asks, even as he feels his gut clench.

_"Yeah... The poor kid got hit by the mother's new husband's chauffeur who didn't see him. When he got the news, Kerring went off the rails. He started threatening the ex-wife and husband, said they'd killed his little boy out of spite."_

"Damn." Steve runs a hand over his face, still going faster than he should. If he'd been born with a stronger sense of self-preservation, he might have considered slowing down, but if there was one thing he'd inherited from his grandfather, along with the name, it was the possession of a stronger sense of duty than self-preservation.

"All right, Lori, those are mostly just facts. What's your profiler's sense telling you?"

_"He's unstable, unable to cope with the loss of his son, highly volatile and more than willing to shoot to kill. He's unresponsive to any attempts to compromise or let any of the hostages out. I don't think we'll be able to take him alive, Steve."_

"...You think, or you're sure?" he asks, though he's sure he already knows the answer.

_"I'm positive... and, Steve?"_

"Yeah?"

_"According to his file, one of his teachers said Kerring went hunting with his dad a lot as a kid, won a lot of trophies and awards, things like that."_

"...So he's a good shot?"

 _"If it hadn't been for the fact that the muscles on one side of his body didn't develop properly, he would've been a shoo-in for the military."_ She pauses for a moment, and Steve hears the sound of gunfire. Just as he's about to shout for her, Lori's voice returns. _"Sorry, Steve, that was... another problem we've got. It'll be easier to explain when you get here, but for now... he's holding the hostages captive with what we think is some type machine gun, or at least something that can fire as quickly, but it's not one that anybody can recognize from sound alone. It makes a hell of a lot of noise, whatever it is."_

"Mother- God damn it!"

He hates cases like this, hates even thinking about having to shoot people, even if it's so he can save others. He may have spent half his life as a Navy SEAL, but the knowledge that he was doing something for the greater good never taken away the sting of taking a life then, nor does it now.

 _"Steve,"_ the profiler interrupts. _"Chin wants to know when you'll be getting here."_

"Maybe two minutes more?"

He hears Lori's voice, light and familiar, and Chin's answering tones.

 _"All right. He says he needs to talk to you as soon as you arrive- as in_ before _you try to go in by yourself. That last bit was all him, by the way,"_ she says, huffing a strained laugh. She's going for levity, even manages a little bit, and Steve's glad she does and lets out his own tiny chuckle. Humor is good for Lori; it keeps her more focused and less likely to tense up and second-guess herself- which are her two biggest weaknesses. She worries too much about being wrong and doesn't trust her instincts. Her time with Five-0's helped her to overcome a lot of that, however, so Steve's willing to be optimistic.

"Well, I can see some HPD vehicles, so I'm going to hang up now. You can tell Chin I won't go in without talking to him first."

_"Okay, sounds good. See you in a bit."_

He closes his phone with a snap, cuts the engine and takes a single, calming breath before hopping out to face the situation.

* * *

Jogging past HPD cars and officers, Steve spots Chin standing by his monstrosity of a motorcycle, Lori and Kono at his side. Their gazes are concentrated on the building across from them, and Steve pauses to give the building a once-over. It's a typical warehouse: square, one open level, one exit facing them, another in the back most likely- possibly another two, one for each side- two windows on the front of the building- boarded up, as the doors must be- and what look like five more windows on the side from which he's approaching.

Chin notices him before Steve can resume making his way. There's a somber cast to his usually relaxed features, every angle amplified and standing stark against the plains of his face.

Kono sees Chin's movement and turns to give Steve a quick nod. In terms of experience, she's the greenest of them all, with only a few years between her and graduation from the academy, but there are few veterans who can match her natural quick thinking and athleticism. Still, in situations like this, the lack of experience can be a liability, which is why Steve's glad that she and Lori are able to get along well. Lori has more years and can call up more experiences, so she knows what to do in situations that Kono's only seen in textbooks, and in exchange, Kono gives Lori confidence boosts and occasionally tears into her when the older woman doesn't take charge as she should.

Steve's proud of his team and knows they're a talented group, but sometimes he feels that there's something missing, and it's most obvious in times like this. Chin and Kono are laid back, Lori fretful and he's apparently "too quick to get things done through force;" they need someone who can balance them, someone with fresh eyes, who hasn't spent years on the island and can blow through whatever bullshit they're trying to sell.

Shaking his head, Steve wonders at his distraction. It's down to life or death; his attention needs to be fixed on the people inside the warehouse, not nonexistent partners (since that's really what he wants).

When he reaches them, his teammates are shuffling about and looking guilty- with the exception of Chin, who refuses to be cowed by Steve.

"What's going on? Lori said something about a problem."

"Yeah, we've definitely got one," Chin answers.

"What kind of problem, then?"

"The kind where a dog is standing in front of the door and starts barking whenever we try to do anything, the kind where he'll just sit there and look at us without batting an eyelash but goes after anyone who goes near the building, that kind of problem," provides Kono. "I've never seen anything like it. He seems perfectly happy to just sit there but goes ballistic and starts barking like crazy at anyone wants to get in, and every time he barks, Kerring starts shooting. He must have shot off at least twelve rounds the last time alone."

"What about animal control?"

"Oh, they tried. Even in teams and armed with tranquilizers, they couldn't subdue him. In fact, that's why they aren't here; they went through all the tranquilizer rounds they didn't have to keep in case another emergency pops up. You'll want to be careful around the front; there must be at least thirty tranq darts lying around."

"That many?" Steve asks, thrown. He's only had a few dealings with Hawai'i's animal control officers in the past, but he'd always gotten the impression that they knew what they were doing and were capable. If they'd wasted that many darts, though, because of _one_ dog...

"He's upset and worried about his master. Pit bulls are really smart. He's probably just trying to be a good dog," Lori mumbles.

The entire team- and some of HPD's force- turns to look at her.

"What? My parents had some when I was younger. They were good, never attacked anybody or anything like that. If you raise them right and don't mistreat them, they're perfectly nice companions. My parents have pictures of them playing with me when I was little, and they said they were never as comfortable with human babysitters as they were with Scraggle and Prop."

Everyone is looking at her by this point, and Lori, instead of retreating into her shell, stands straight and looks them all in the eyes.

"They're good dogs," she finishes firmly.

After a few moments more of incredulity, the officers turn away, leaving Lori with her teammates. She continues to refuse to shuffle or show any signs of weakness, which impresses the others, but Steve is nearly chomping at his imaginary bit, unhappy to be doing something other than rescuing the hostages.

Even so, he's startled to hear Lori's next comment.

"I think Steve should try to get the dog to move."

Kono's brows furrow with uncertainty.

"Why? What makes you think it won't attack him, too?"

"Pit bulls respond best to alpha-types who are firm with them, sort of like placebo masters. The animal control officers didn't act the right way, but I think that if he's careful, Steve won't have the same problem."

"It makes sense," Chin says slowly, giving Steve a hard look.

"All right, I'm going in, then. Anything else I should know?" Steve asks.

"Just... be consistent and don't let the dog get the impression you're here to hurt his master- or him, but that's secondary. Try talking to him softly; it doesn't matter what you say, so long as he hears your voice."

The former SEAL gives his team a quick nod, takes the vest Chin holds out and makes his way past the cars and officers and into the open area in front.

* * *

As he approaches, slipping the vest on as he goes, Steve finally gets a clear view of the dog that's been giving them so much trouble. His first impression is that it's incredibly dirty, short coat covered in dirt, mud and what looks like blood. His second impression is that if ever a dog existed for the sake of fighting, it would be this one; its shoulders are broad and muscular, its legs short and slightly bowed beneath a short, sloping back. The small ears on its head have been cropped and stick up straight above its heavy, sledgehammer-like head, and the dog's tail has been docked, leaving nothing for anyone- or any _thing_ \- to grab. The dog's stance is relaxed, but its gaze warily follows Steve as he approaches, large muscles tensing.

"Hey, buddy," he greets it softly. "One of my teammates said you're a pit bull, that pit bulls are really intelligent. She said you won't attack me if I'm firm, which I really hope is true."

Something about it seems off as Steve watches the previously vicious animal calmly take a few steps towards him, then sit down again, still watching him. This time it cocks its head and gives him a curious look.

"You're going to let me through, all right? You know your master's inside with some people, but I can't let him keep them up there. I need you to stay quiet so I can get in, all right?"

It continues watching him with two, oddly dark blue eyes.

Still muttering and explaining what he's doing, Steve takes the final few steps that bring him to stand before the dog. He doesn't blink or let his hand shake as he reaches down and gently scratches behind one of its ears, surprised that it doesn't protest the action, despite the rather dark look in its eyes.

When he tries to walk past it, however, the dog whirls and cuts him off, a low growl rumbling in deep in its gut.

Steve immediately looks to the building's windows, every muscle on edge, waiting for the gun to go off.

It doesn't, though, the growling too quiet for the man inside to have heard, and when Steve looks back down, the dog's face is twisted into a doggy version of a wry look, as though it wants to shake its head and call him an idiot.

"What?" he asks, more because he's frustrated and his body is humming with the knowledge that there's a very unstable man inside and he isn't _doing_ anything, than because he's expecting an answer.

To his surprise, the dog's features smooth out, and it takes a few steps away before looking back at him. When it sees that he hasn't followed, it huffs, trots back, takes the bottom of his cargoes in its mouth, gives him a tug, then looks up at him, its mouth opening to allow Steve's pants to fall from it. Steve doesn't fail to note that the wry expression is back on its face.

This time, it only takes two steps before looking over its shoulder. When it sees that Steve has caught on and is standing right behind it, the dog makes an odd noise that comes out eerily similar to a hum of approval, and continues on its way, leading him around the side of the building, then to the back door.

There, it sits down and looks up at him, as if to say, "Well? Get going. I've done my part."

Steve leans close to the door and listens, his ears catching the sounds of a man shouting and a girl crying.

Shaking his head, he moves to open the door but hesitates. For some reason, he feels the need to thank the dog, even though it can't understand him.

"Look... I don't normally talk to animals, but thank you," he says.

In return- though he swears never to mention it to anyone, ever- he swears the dog nods. It looks him right in the eyes as it does it, then nudges Steve's leg with its blunt nose, a wordless command to get a move on.

He draws a breath before twisting the doorknob and stepping into the warehouse, casting a glance back and, upon discovering that the dog is gone, absently wonders where it is.

* * *

Steve's first thought upon entering is, "What the hell?"

The man, Kerring, is standing across the warehouse from him, a few away from the door and pointing a massive gun Steve doesn't recognize at three people: a man, a woman and a little girl; even from his place across the building from them, Steve can see that all three are barely able to stand, their bodies undoubtedly feeling the toll from the high-stress situation.

If the man's determined appearance is anything by which to judge, Steve would say that the man's plan is to kill anyone who enters through the door. Without knowing anything about the gun- and whatever ammunition it uses- it's possible that, even with bullet resistant vests and shields, there would be heavy casualties. Once again, Steve finds his mind casting back to the muddy dog. How could it have known what was going on inside? Why was it helping him instead of its master?

He mentally shakes his head, blinking a few times to clear his thoughts.

The dog conundrum is one he wants to solve, but a more pressing issue, however, is the grenade in the man's hand- a grenade with a pin that's dancing just on the edge of being pulled free.

Back when Steve was a young man in the Navy, freshly enrolled and just beginning his career, his instructors had always been sure to drive one particular point home: The most dangerous person is the one who's got nothing to lose. Such people place no importance on their own lives and have no fear of death; whether they are rational or uncontrolled, all have the feeling that death is nothing to fear.

In all his years serving, Steve has kept that idea fixed firmly in the front of his mind, and it has served him well. As he steps forward, he sees in the man before him the same look he's seen on every suicide bomber, every soldier invalided home to a family he can no longer support; the man's face says more clearly than any words that he can fall no lower.

Everything Richard Kerring once possessed, once treasured, with the exception of the little girl softly crying between her mother and step-father, has been lost to him. There's nothing to keep him from turning the gun on his hostages- or anyone he perceives as a threat. There's something off about him, though. The man is sweating and fidgeting, obviously distracted by something, but it takes Steve a moment to put it together. Richard Kerring's decided to fill himself up with crack- cheaper than cocaine, easier for a known cop to get- most likely to get up the courage to do this.

It makes Steve's stomach clench. The man isn't a killer; he's a distraught father who hasn't been able to cope with the death of his son.

Still, he's threatening people, and, whatever his reasons might be, that isn't something that can be allowed to happen.

Steve steps through the empty warehouse, careful to keep his footsteps quiet, with one hand on the gun in his thigh holster while the other hovers near his stomach, ready to steady his other arm, should he need to shoot.

He's so focused on the man that he nearly misses the quick intake of breath from the little girl. Kerring, however, reacts instantly; he swiftly turns and fires, bullets tearing through the air where Steve's body had been a few moments before.

"Five-0! Put your gun down, Mr. Kerring!" Steve calls, hoping to any deity who might be listening that the man actually does as he's told.

Instead, more bullets attempt to embed themselves in his flesh, even as he dodges again.

"Don't make me shoot, Kerring!"

Again, the man doesn't reply, merely pulls the trigger of the monstrous gun and tries to direct his bullets into Steve's body. No gun, particularly not one held by hand, ought to have as much ammunition as the one in the cracked-up man's hands, but there's no way to deny the gun's argument.

If he can't rest long enough to aim properly, Steve won't be able to shoot, and if can't shoot, he can't disarm Kerring. The impossibility of the situation grates against every nerve and etches itself into every bone. He needs to do something, but he can't, not with the risk of accidentally shooting one of the hostages.

Steve has just dodged another volley of bullets and begun another frustrating round of trying to figure out how to end the situation when a brown streak rockets past him. He barely has time to wrench his head around in time to see the dog who'd led him to the back door, the one who supposedly belonged to Kerring, launch itself at the man, knocking gun and grenade aside, then flop onto its rump and start howling.

The howling is immediately followed by the front door being kicked down and Lori, Chin, Kono and a squad of HPD officers rushing through the doorway.

Surrounded and unarmed, Kerring suddenly looks quite small and weak. His eyes, when he looks at his dog, are filled with a deep sadness. Grief is written clearly in every line and shadow on his face as he lies on the ground. For a moment, he is still, but just as an officer approaches to cuff him, Kerring scrabbles forward and grabs the grenade.

Something soft and mournful falls from his mouth as the man rips the pin out.

For a moment, everyone is frozen and Steve is trapped in his own body. He won't be able to get there on time; he won't be able to save everyone. He has to _do something..._

Once again, Steve watches a brown shadow rush past him, this time with a green smudge in its mouth.

_Five... four... three... two... one..._

The explosion rocks the building, but nothing catches fire and no one is hurt. Kerring is zip tied, then hauled off by HPD for booking. Steve's team quietly escorts the now-free family outside to the medics Steve assumes will have arrived.

He's too busy looking out the back door, wondering how the dog knew what to do, to notice when Chin walks up to him.

"Come on, brah. The medics want to give you the usual," the local says.

"I'm fine," Steve replies, still staring out the door.

"Not up for discussion, McGarrett. Of all people, you should know I won't let you stay here by yourself."

"...I suppose you're right. Mahalo, Chin."

"Mahalo me after you've seen the medic."

Steve slowly smiles at his old friend's refusal to let him be. Were it someone else, he might just brush it off or grow annoyed, but Chin is too reasonable to refuse.

The two walk out the building and to one of the waiting ambulances. A short Hawaiian woman with a medic's uniform is waiting for them, her lips pursed as the men come closer, obviously recognizing them. As he gets closer, Steve recognizes her in return. Che Wahine, one of the island's best emergency workers, is a woman who has tangled with Steve in the past- in more ways than one. Of all the people who deal with Steve, she's one of the few who can stand up to him.

"Che, sistah, long time no see, huh?" Chin greets her. "I thought Steve would appreciate a familiar face."

The woman snorts but nontheless motions Steve into the back of the ambulance.

"What've you got for me to fix this time, McGarrett?" she asks, more weary than angry.

"Nothing, actually. I didn't get hit or anything," he answers, distracted by the ground.

"Check his ankles and wrists- and all the other joints, really," Chin supplies helpfully. "We could hear his acrobatics from outside."

"Steve!" the woman chides him. "You aren't twenty anymore. You know better than to go about throwing yourself around- or at least you ought to."

He mumbles something under his breath, refusing to flinch when the woman presses her hands on his tender joints, but before Che can call him out on it, a single bark interrupts them.

Steve looks up and sees the dog from earlier sitting on the ground a few feet away. It's sitting as it had sat earlier: muscles slightly coiled and its face slightly wary but with its head cocked, as though it were confused about something.

Confused himself about how it could have survived the grenade's blast, Steve studies it closely, searching for any sign of fresh injury, but it looks the same as it did earlier: underweight, its coat matted with mud and old, dried dirt (as well as who knows what else) but seemingly in decent health.

"Hey, buddy," the taskforce leader calls, easing himself from the vehicle and onto the ground where he squats with a groan, one arm outstretched.

With surprising daintiness for such a heavily built creature, the dog carefully steps forward and sniffs Steve's hand. After a moment, it sneezes and gives him a scandalized look, as if affronted by the way he smells.

Curious, Steve brings the hand to his nose and sniffs it as well, only to start coughing.

"Ugh, that's the hand I used to pat you earlier! You stink, dog; even you think you do."

Again, it lets out a single bark, this time sounding almost indignant. It narrows its eyes at him, casting a critical eye over Steve's own mussed- and undoubtedly sweaty- appearance.

He returns its gaze for a moment, then bursts into laughter.

From its place a few inches away, the dog eyes him as though he were insane for a few seconds, then scurries away, casting a few glances over his shoulder as he goes.

Che interrupts them, putting a hand on Steve's shoulder. He looks up into her face and winces. The EMT is giving him a careful look, undoubtedly considering whether taking him to the hospital would be worth the fuss. Steve hopes she decides against it; he's fine, just recovering from the adrenaline rush and crash, and really doesn't want to go to the hospital.

With a sigh, she announces her decision.

"All right, Steve, we're going to the hospital-" Seeing Steve open his mouth, ready to argue, she pushes forward, "-since I have to go back there anyway and knowing you, you're going to want to check up on the family, especially that little girl. Might as well save the time, hm? I'm sure Chin won't mind driving your truck."

The quiet man nods, and Steve can see the smile at the edge of his mouth.

"Lori and Kono came together, so Kono's going to drive my bike back."

His team knows him too well.

"If everything's taken care of, I'd like to get back," says Che as she gently tugs on Steve's shirt.

He gets up quickly and moves to walk to the front of the ambulance but is stopped by the short woman.

"Oh, no, McGarrett, you're riding in the back."

When he starts to make a case against that, she shuts him up with a gleeful, "Mandate from the top, brah."

Steve shakes his head but climbs into the back without further argument, shooting daggers from his eyes at the grinning woman and now openly chuckling Chin. He even tries softening his gaze the way he's seen children do, but the others just outright laugh at him.

His expression darkens as the emergency vehicle's doors close, leaving him alone with the rattling equipment and his whirling thoughts about the man now in police custody.

It's a long ride to the hospital.

* * *

Steve is surreptitiously scanning through the doctors' notes on the family outside their room in the hospital when the commotion begins.

The first thing he hears is someone shouting in surprise, followed quickly by someone else shouting, "Stop!" which sets Steve immediately on edge. He takes a few steps closer to the door and prepares himself for a fight. The shouting gets louder and angrier, and he in turn grows tenser and more protective.

What he isn't prepared for, however, is a dog- the one from the warehouse, in fact- rushing through the hospital corridor and past him into the room. A harassed-looking animal control officer comes sprinting down the hallway a few moments after the dog has entered the room.

"Did you see a short, muddy dog come by here?" the officer puffs, and Steve is spared answering when, from inside the room, a little girl shouts, "Danno!"

Steve and the officer immediately enter the room and are greeted by the sight of a little girl lying in bed, her parents sitting in chairs beside her and a very pleased-looking dog sprawled across the girl's lap, its eyes closed in ecstasy as her little hands softly stroke its head.

Everyone looks up- with the exception of the dog, who remains exactly where he is- confused to see an officer and a stranger standing in the room with them. The parental Edwards seem surprised to see the dog as well, but Steve decides to ignore that for the moment, instead turning to look at the animal control officer.

For his part, the officer- a man in his forties, most likely of mixed Pacific decent- seems quite sad, which immediately sets off alarm bells in Steve's head.

"Ah, excuse us," Steve says. "I'm Lieutenant Commander Steve McGarrett, head of 5-0, and this is..."

"Jimmy Onakea, with animal control," the man introduces himself. "I'm sorry to say this, but I'm going to have to take this dog back to the center with me."

"Of course, officer," says the woman- Rachel, Steve remembers- her upperclass English accent rich and full, every vowel indicating education, and completely out of place in Hawaii with its poor immigrant-created Pidgin. Beneath the smoothness in her speech, Steve is almost positive he can hear a slight tremble to her voice, as though she's upset- though about what, he isn't sure. Being held captive and at gunpoint, along with her current husband and remaining child, by her ex-husband is the most obvious reason, but it doesn't feel right. She keeps glancing at the dog on her daughter's lap, and each time she does, she looks away immediately.

There's something special about the dog, and Steve aims to find out what it is.

Before he can do that, however, a small, plaintive voice makes itself known.

"Aren't we going to keep him?" the girl asks, but her mother shakes her head.

"I'm sorry, Grace, but you know that we're moving somewhere we can't bring pets."

"But, Mama, it's _Danno_. We have to keep him!"

This time, the step-father steps in, picking up Grace's hands in his much larger ones and looking down at her affectionately.

"Gracie, you know that your mother and I love you very much- and that Danny means a lot to us, too- but we just can't take him with us. It would be too much stress for him, not to mention unfair. He's already had to re-adjust three times, and no matter how much we love him, it would be asking too much to take him with us. This is his home now. I'm sure the officer will take him and that Danny will wind up with a family who won't be moving and who'll give him all the love he could ever want."

The little girl looks up at him and nods slowly, but takes one of her hands back and fists it in the pit bull's ruff.

Something at the back of Steve's mind prickles at what Mr. Edwards says- not because he finds it offensive but because it flips a switch back there- and finds himself edging closer to the officer, carefully bending over and whispering,

"What's really going to happen to the dog?"

"As Mr. Kerring won't be able to take care of it- we've already spoken to him- and has no one who can, we'll have to take the dog. Unfortunately, he's a pit bull, and we aren't allowed keep them or give them away. He'll have to be put down," the man replies- too loudly, as the next thing Steve hears is Grace crying.

The little girl is sobbing into the top of the dog's filth-encrusted head while the dog calmly licks at her hand, something too knowing in his appearance, the sight of which makes Steve's gut clench and his mouth say something it shouldn't.

"What about me? Can I take him?"

Everyone, Grace included, looks up at him.

"You'll take Danno?" she asks, the tears slowly drying up.

Steve finds himself smiling.

"If that's all right with everyone...?"

The Edwardses are smiling happily, and Officer Onakea nods slowly.

"I think that would be for the best."

Steve slowly turns to look at the girl on the bed, his stomach knotting with the knowledge that of everyone in the room, she's the most invested in the dog- Danno, didn't she call it?

He finds her already studying him, her young face slightly scrunched up. She isn't violently protesting, which is a good sign, but that may just be because of her upbringing. Steve can't imagine Mrs. Edwards allowing her daughter to behave the way many young children seem to- not that he's the best judge of children. Steve's never been very good with kids (They make him nervous, how delicate they are and how anything he says or does could affect them for the rest of their lives) but something about Grace is reassuring. There's something logical and mature about her; he can see it in the way she's watching him.

"What do you think, Grace?" he finds himself asking.

That seems to surprise her, and Steve finds himself studied anew- and this time with a second face.

Again, it's something he won't say aloud, but Steve could swear the dog is studying him, just as Grace is. He even seems surprised that Steve's asking what she thinks, is almost proud that Steve thinks the little girl's opinion is important- which it is, of course.

Grace hums thoughtfully, then leans close to her companion and asks, "What do you think, Danno?"

For a moment, Steve half expects the dog to open his mouth and answer.

Instead, he yawns and drops its head onto Grace's lap.

"I see," the little girl says seriously. "Danno says it's okay, so I don't mind."

"Thank you, Grace," Steve says, then adds, almost as an afterthought, "and you, too, Danno."

* * *

Steve is just heading out to his truck to get some rope he can use as a temporary collar-leash combo when a voice calls his name, and when he turns around, he sees Mr. Edwards walking quickly toward him.

"Mr. Edwards? Is there something I can do for you?" he asks, somewhat confused, but the man shakes his head.

"Actually, Mr. McGarrett-"

"Steve, please."

"-Then call me Stan, and it's actually more what I can do for you."

"I'm sorry?"

Stan shuffles uncomfortably.

"Perhaps we could talk as you go out to your car?"

"Yeah, no problem."

They walk in silence for a minute or two as they slowly make their way through the hospital's winding corridors, Stan seemingly worried and Steve incredibly curious.

Finally, Stan breaks the silence.

"Danny is a... special dog," he begins. "Rachel told me, when we first got together, how Richard- ah, Mr. Kerring- had bought him from a shelter that rescues animals that are used in fights- anything from cocks to mastiffs. Grace had loved him from the start, and Danny- despite Rachel's initial protests that she wouldn't have a killer near their child- had proved to love her just as much. When the baby came, Danny loved him, too. You know what's the strangest thing, though?" he asks, lifting a brow. At Steve's head shake, Stan smiles. "For all he seemed to hate me after the split, the most Danny ever did was occasionally growl at me- and that was mostly for show."

Steve strongly doubts that, and Stan must see it on his face, because he laughs and says, "I know I know it sounds crazy, but Danny's taken care of me. I accidentally got into some trouble with a client at work, which lead to me being threatened, and when this massive guy pulled a knife on me, Danny didn't even hesitate to put himself in the way of the knife so I could escape and call 911." Stan eyes him for a moment. "He took care of me when I needed him, even though I'd done nothing for him beyond petting him and sometimes slipping him some food. Dogs' faithfulness runs deep, and Danny's no exception, Steve. He was almost as devastated as Richard when Rachel left, but even though he loves Grace, he seemed to know that Richard needed him more and stayed with him. I don't think he left Richard's side until today."

Silence falls again between them, the only sound the soft, sure taps of Stan's shoes and Steve's heavier, tired boots thumping on the floor.

"He's quite intelligent for a dog- very perceptive," Steve says, pondering he's just been told.

The other man's smile is crooked, halfway between amused and calculating.

"Mm, well, Danny isn't like other dogs."

"How so?"

Stan merely shakes his head.

"I think it would be... more beneficial for you to see for yourself."

Steve narrows his eyes.

"Why would that be?" he asks suspiciously.

"It's a bit complicated," comes the reply, which does nothing to alleviate Steve's suspicion. Stan obviously notices this and shakes his head. "Listen, Steve. It isn't that I don't want to say anything; it's that I can't."

"You can't? What does that even mean?"

"It means that living with Danny will be more enlightening than anything I say."

As Stan finishes, the two men reach the hospital's exit. He gently rests a hand on Steve's shoulder and looks directly into the taskforce leader's eyes.

"You'll take good care of him, won't you?"

There's something in the man's eyes, something that wasn't there before, that convinces Steve that he won't settle for a general platitude or some flippant answer. Stan isn't an intimidating man even by normal standards and certainly not to a former SEAL, but the part of him trained by the SEALs can see and respect what Stan is doing. He isn't trying to be threatening or a bully; he's just standing in front of Steve and asking for the truth.

It makes the former SEAL want to prove himself, despite having been silently thinking the man was weak earlier.

"The best."

The smile that appears on the man's face can hardly fit on his face.

"Good, good. Thank you, Steve," he says, then turns and starts on his way back to his wife and daughter.

* * *

Steve is almost back to the room, the rope in his hands, when his brain suddenly kicks in.

'What am I doing?' he asks himself, his steps slowing to a stop. He barely has time for himself and his somewhat-more-than-friends-with-benefits relationship with Cath, let alone enough to take care of a dog- even one as intelligent as Danny. Plus, he has no experience with pets of any kind; no matter how much he and Mary Ann had begged and pleaded, their father had been resolute: no pets for the McGarretts. When their mother had heard how much they wanted one, though, she'd tried to persuade her husband- had even managed to break down a few of his objections- but after she'd died in a car accident, there'd been no chance. Steve and Mary had been shipped off, and now Steve is an adult with only a very sketchy idea of what is required.

It begins to weigh more and more heavily on him, a cold knot of fear forming in his gut, and just as the thought of running away and never looking back sneaks into his mind, he hears a sleepy voice mumble,

"'M glad Mr. Steve is taking Danno."

"Why do you say that, Grace?" an Englishwoman's voice asks.

"Because he looks sad and Danno always makes me happy, so maybe Danno can make him happy."

"That's very nice of you, dear; I'm sure Commander McGarrett will appreciate it."

He can't very well not take the dog now, can he?

* * *

Nearly an hour later, Steve is leading Danny through the house and up the stairs, secure in the knowledge that the twenty minutes of torturous dog supplies-buying has resulted in Danny being equipped with a heavy-duty, black leather collar and an industrial strength leash he won't break. Admittedly, Steve has figured out by this point that he doesn't really need them- and had quickly abandoned the leash. Danny has been content to trot along just behind Steve's heel, not that he hasn't tested his new owner. Any time Steve's attention has wandered, Danny's wound up wandering, too. It hasn't seemed to serve a purpose beyond annoying Steve, since whenever he calls, the dog walks back to him, a doggy grin fixed to his face.

When Steve's next plan becomes clear to the short dog, however, the grin disappears and he immediately starts backing away.

"Danny?" Steve calls, somewhat surprised to see that the pit bull stops. "Danny, come."

Warily, and certainly not happily, the dog walks back to his owner. The look he gives the man is one of scandalized betrayal, his expression and posture as unhappy as that of an innocent prisoner walking to his death. The reaction is so over-the-top that Steve can't help but laugh, surprising himself even more than the dog. It's been so long since he genuinely laughed, since he was able to completely forget his weariness and regrets- however temporarily- that he's taken aback.

The dog smirks at him.

Steve picks him up, ignoring the annoyed noises and struggles coming from his short prisoner, and, smiling brightly, jogs into the bathroom and carefully drops the still-squirming dog into the tub. He then turns the water on and watches as Danny skulks off to the far corner, giving the water a wary look.

When the water's finally warm enough, Steve reaches up, grabs the removable shower head and, with a slightly self-satisfied smile, turns the soft spray on and watches it pour over the dog.

Danny's reaction pulls another jolt of laughter from him.

The little pit bull, soaking wet and with dirty water streaming down him, is glaring up at Steve as though Steve had kicked him, rather than dropped him in some water.

"What?" the man asks. "Dogs love water!"

The look on Danny's face quite clearly says, 'This one doesn't, you ass.'

Steve simply shakes his head and turns the water off. Danny pants happily as Steve pulls the bottle of dog shampoo he'd bought from one of his cargo pockets and begins tentatively washing his new pet.

The experience is... strangely pleasant. Rubbing back and forth, feeling the dog's fur dragging against his skin as he gently loosens the layers and layers of filth and grime that have taken over the dog's coat is soothing, and seeing the terrier grin on Danny's face makes Steve smile, too.

He falls into the routine of massaging the shampoo through the dog's coat then washing Danny clean, and by the time he's gotten Danny as clean as he can, Steve has completely lost track of the time.

When he's finished, Steve stands and stretches, taking a moment to relieve the tension in his muscles from their previous position.

From his position high above the dog, he gets a good view of how Danny actually looks without a coat full of filth.

Danny is... surprisingly good looking (unlike Steve's tub). He has a short, red-gold coat with a white stripe down the middle of his face that widens around his top lip. His lower lip, too, has a white stripe that widens as it goes further down, covering almost all of the dog's chest. It seems like the type of marking that would continue over Danny's (slightly too-thin) belly, but Steve's too high up to be able to tell. As the water drains out, Steve can see that the fur on the front of Danny's forepaws is white, as are most of his slightly too-long claws. Steve isn't worried about them, though, because he's heard that taking dogs on walks or runs will keep their nails short, and he has plans to take Danny with him on his morning jogs once the pit's in better health.

Feeling oddly fond, Steve grabs a towel and begins drying Danny off, which the dog enjoys immensely.

Halfway through drying him off, Steve discovers that Danny's fallen asleep, his little doggy snuffles alerting Steve to the fact that his short companion is no longer awake, despite Steve's continued rubbing. Oddly, it doesn't bother him at all that he has to pick Danny up and carry his little bundle to the dog bed Steve had indulged in buying for his pet.

By the time he's finished, Steve doesn't have the energy even to consider taking a shower himself before bed. He simply drops his pants, takes his shirts off, tosses them into his dirty clothes hamper, then finally collapses on his bed and immediately drifts off to sleep.

* * *

The first thing Steve notices when he wakes is that he's warm.

The second is that there's someone else in bed with him.

Just as he slowly starts to roll over, preparing to incapacitate whoever's joined him, an indignant yelp cuts through the remainders of his sleepy fog.

Surprised, Steve stops mid-turn and waits.

A few moments later, the face of a disgruntled pit bull appears before him, his expression similar to an angry old man: forehead deeply wrinkled and eyes narrowed. Again, the sight of it makes Steve laugh, an action he hasn't done nearly often enough this half of his life.

Strangely, his laughter seems to assuage the dog's unhappiness; his face relaxes and body wriggles with something akin to joy. Either that, or Danny has to go out.

When Steve gets up and makes his way to the back door, though, the dog is no longer with him. A quick investigation leads to the discovery of a certain rusty-haired creature standing by the fridge, its stub of a tail waving frantically back and forth while giving the man a hopeful look, and Steve can't help but smile at his short friend's reaction to food.

Said reaction disappears when, instead of a prize from the refrigerator, his bowl is filled with kibble. The look the dog gives Steve is fairly scandalized- not that he doesn't then proceed to start hungrily devouring everything in the bowl.

Steve uses the time Danny's eating to go upstairs and change into swimming trunks. Since Danny's still eating when he gets back down- for all the noise he makes when it's open, the dog actually has a relatively small mouth- he decides that he can safely for a swim without fear of returning to a ruined house.

By the time he gets back, the house is fine- if he ignores the fact that the back door has been smashed and clawed to bits. He doesn't choose to ignore this and turns to look at the guilty party.

Danny is sitting right beside the mess of the door and looks damn proud of himself, and the look he shoots Steve dares the man to contradict his feelings.

It turns out that Steve takes him up on that dare.

Twenty minutes later, a deflated Steve and a chastised Danny have finally finished cleaning up the mess (Danny mostly sitting off to the side behind Steve and absolutely _not_ walking through the ruins of the door) when Steve's phone goes off.

"Hello?"

_"Steve?"_

"Kono? What's going on?"

_"Well, you're half an hour late, so we were starting to get worried..."_

"Oh. No, everything's fine; there was just a small problem with my back door..."

_"Is everything okay?"_

"Yeah, it's nothing. I just, uh, need a new one..."

Danny can hear the sigh from the woman on the other end of the call.

_"I'll have Chin call Kamekona and have him get his cousins on it."_

"No! I mean-"

_"Chin says that if you don't come willingly- and in time to do your share of the paperwork- he's going to tell Nana that you're still single."_

"...I'll be right in."

Steve ends the call and sighs, unhappy about leaving the house without a door, but knows that no one would be suicidal enough to try to do anything to his house while it's got a pit bull standing guard.

Speaking of pit bulls...

"Danny?" Steve asks, still feeling a bit foolish to be talking to a dog.

He feels only slightly better when the dog seems to incline his head, an echo of a person showing he's listening.

"I, uh, I've got to work but I can't take you with me and I'm missing a back door, so... Would you please stay here and watch over the house while I'm gone?"

The look on the dog's face is indecisive, so Steve presses on.

"Do I have to remind you _why_ it's missing a back door?"

Changrined, the dog shakes its head.

"Good. Now I'm heading off to work, but some guys are coming over later to fix the door. They're pretty big, native, relatives of a friend, and I don't want you didn't rip their arms off... if you can understand me...?"

He gets a nod. It probably says something about him that he isn't really questioning Danny's understanding anymore.

"I'll be off, then..."

Steve strides through the house, thankful he ate breakfast and got ready for work before cleaning up the door fiasco, but when he gets to the door, he pauses. A thought strikes him, and before he can shake it off, he turns around.

Danny is standing a few steps behind him, looking slightly embarrassed, and that makes Steve's decision for him.

He walks back to the dog, ruffles his soft head and tells him, "Bye, Danny," before turning back and racing to his truck, sure that Kono's going to have his head if he doesn't speed to work.

What he doesn't hear over the sound of the truck's engine roaring to life, is a single, sad yap from the house.

* * *

Today must be lucky, because when Steve gets to Five-0's HQ, Lori is standing outside his office door with a cup of coffee and a folder with all the forms he has to fill out.

"Here," she says, handing them over with a knowing smile. "Kono's on the phone with her mother, and Chin just got called in."

"Thank you; thank you so much," he says with feeling.

Lori simply shakes her head and walks back to her desk, leaving Steve to wish for the thousandth time that he had feelings for her. She'd come to him relatively early after being transferred in from Homeland Security and said that she had to talk to him, and talk they had- for nearly two hours. She'd taken his rejection in stride and had been glad to hear that he wasn't going to transfer her. She was good at what she did, and Steve liked her, both as a person and a coworker.

Still, he can't but think that it would be nice if-

He shakes his head, dislodging the thought before it can take further root. He has to concentrate on the paperwork in his hands so he can hopefully make a large enough dent in it to stop Kono and Chin from tearing into him. Lori's nice enough to help him out with coffee and having things together, but she isn't fool enough to get between Steve and the cousins' wrath.

Three hours later, Steve finally looks up, too tired to be triumphant about being finished. The coffee is long gone, everything is blurry and his brain never again wants to contemplate why there is a technical difference between necessary and required force or what it is.

Instead, he leaves his office and nearly runs over an equally weary Chin.

"Hey, brah, howzit?" asks the native.

Steve gives his friend a look he hopes communicates how he's feeling.

Chin chuckles and nods. "Yeah, me, too. You done, then?"

Steve nods, groaning at the way the motion makes his sore neck protest.

"Go home, boss. It's been a while since you filled out so many forms and you look like hell. I'll tell Kono I let you go so she doesn't accidentally come after you. Besides, I heard about your dog and the door, and I know you enough to know you're probably worried about them."

"Chin Ho Kelly, have I told you that you're a god?"

He gets a chuckle in response. "Nah, brah, but I know you think it. Now, go home and rest. Take a nap or something."

* * *

When he pulls into the driveway, Steve's house is quiet, for which he is thankful but also slightly unnerved.

He enters through the front door, then quietly stalks to the back door, happy to discover that not only did Kamekona's cousins come and fix it, but they did it well and cleaned up whatever mess they might have made. He hadn't been completely comfortable knowing that criminals would be messing with an entrance to his house, but upon inspection, he can't find any traps or things left behind that would make re-entry easier.

That leaves only one thing: finding Danny. For a dog that tends to make a hell of a lot of noise, he is being uncharacteristically silent, which is playing havoc with Steve's mind. While he does not think that the cousins would have taken his dog, it's still possible for something to have happened to him while Steve was gone. The thought further worries him, and he begins frantically searching all over for the little dog, calling out his name, even running up and down the street.

A half hour passes, and Steve still has yet to find anything to give him a clue as to where Danny is. Surprised by how attached he has grown to the pit bull, he decides to head upstairs to bed, hoping that he might catch a glimpse of a red-gold coat on the way there.

By the time he's brushed his teeth and slipped into bed, he still hasn't found Danny. The silence of the house, something he usually loves, is starting to send chills up his spine and won't let him sleep. Somehow, in less than twenty four hours, the stocky pit bull has made himself an important part of Steve's life, and not knowing where the dog is, is eating at Steve.

Frustrated and worried, he throws the sheet off and gets out of bed.

He makes his way downstairs, more loudly than usual since he's too mentally worn out to bother being quiet, determined to make another sweep of the house- and perhaps fix himself the one snack guaranteed to calm his uncharacteristically jumpy nerves: half a banana and some warm milk.

Going outside first doesn't seem like a good idea, not if he's feeling anxious, so Steve heads to the kitchen, deciding to grab his snack first on the the way.

The bananas are, as ever, hanging from a banana bunch holder, and Steve smiles gratefully when he sees that, yes, there's one more ripe banana. He's just put his hand on the fridge handle when he hears a soft woof. The sound is muted and definitely unhappy and, as he opens the door, definitely coming from Danny.

For a moment, he can only look down in shock as he watches a pit bull fall from his refrigerator, an indignant huff of air coming from its mouth as it hits the floor. After the moment passes, however, a bark of laughter bursts from Steve, startling both him and the dog at his feet. The sound comes out desperate and relieved at once.

He tries to hold it in, but soon more, somewhat lighter laughter is coming too hard to be stopped. Steve can do nothing but close his eyes, double over and let the rough laughter force its way out.

A cold nose interrupts him after a long minute, shoving itself into one of Steve's clenched hands, and when he looks down, he sees Danny nosing at him, a look of consternation on his wrinkled face, which, for a reason Steve can't understand, makes him laugh even harder.

He starts to feel exhausted and uncomfortable but can't manage to get a grip on himself. Panic slowly knots itself around him, squeezing his throat as if it were a boa constrictor and he its prey, the snake- or panic, he's losing track of the simile at this point- wrapping itself around him, slowly cutting off the air supply and rupturing the defenseless animal's innards.

Steve isn't defenseless, though; he has a small partner who can sense his fear and more importantly, can stop it in its tracks. Steve, however, doesn't know this, and gets a fright when Danny suddenly tackles him from the side, knocking Steve to the floor, landing on his hip. The pain of impact combined with the surprise at getting attacked by the short dog gives his body enough of a shock to snap him from his mania.

"Danny!" he says, stunned. "I've been looking for you for forever. Have you been in the fridge the entire time?"

Steve carefully does not think about how he's still talking to the dog as though it can understand him- not that Danny's reaction helps. The dog's eyes narrow, his head cocking to the side, a mannerism Steve's noticed certain people express when they're affronted.

"What?" he asks. "I couldn't find you, so it's a perfectly acceptable question. Were you in the fridge the whole time?"

The dog looks at him pitifully for a moment, then hangs his head, which Steve takes as a, "Yes, Steve, I was; in fact, I was in there even before you got home. Let's forget about that, though, and never bring it up again."

"Come on, then," he says. "I'll get you some food so we can go to bed."

* * *

Steve wakes up the next morning just in time to hit the floor with an soft grunt.

"What the hell?" he mumbles, blinking blearily back at the bed, and immediately figures out why he's on the floor. One of Danny's paws is hanging off the bed, which would be cute if he hadn't just pushed Steve to the floor.

Promising vengeance under his breath, Steve wriggles around, trying to get to his feet, but just as he's rolled onto his hands and knees, a weight smacks him on the back and forces him back to the floor, pulling another grunt from him.

"Dammit, Danny, you selfish-" Steve is cut off by his face being pushed further into the floor as Danny, who has temporarily regained his feet, scoots forward and drops himself on Steve's head, which he proceeds to use as a cushion for his own furry one.

"What? You want me to stay here or something?"

His question is met with a dark grumble, which Steve takes as a strong yes.

"Why? Come on, Danny. I've only known you for a little while, but I know you like food. We'll have breakfast when you let me up."

From his spot on Steve's head, Danny droops a doggy forearm across Steve's forehead and almost... hits him with his paw, as if he were a human and smacking Steve... which Steve chooses to ignore, something he's found himself doing more and more with Danny.

Tired of not getting any real answers and feeling the beginning of a headache, Steve slowly rolls onto his side, trying to give Danny enough time to escape... only Danny's not having it. He remains attached to Steve's head until gravity forces him to let go.

Steve takes it as the earth's way of saying, "Sorry about the dog. Here, have a nap." He graciously accepts the apology but decides, as he looks at his watch, that even though it's five thirty in the morning on a work day and he's already too late for a decent swim, he should get up.

He doesn't account for Danny.

Three minutes later, he vows never to make the same mistake again. He's lying on his back, frustrated and ready to move, with a now-content Danny snoozing between his legs, his head a few inches from Steve's naval. Steve considers the situation: Each time he's tried to get up, Danny's growled. Every move he's made to help himself get up, Danny's snapped his jaws very close to a place no jaws should ever snap. Thinking- hoping, really- that maybe this time will be different, he shifts, trying to ease Danny from his spot between Steve's legs one more time. He's almost managed to push the dog to the floor before Danny wakes up.

Unlike earlier, Danny doesn't react with anger this time. Instead, he gazes at Steve with wide blue eyes full of some canine emotion Steve can't name, but it doesn't look anything like aggression. Now that he starts thinking about it, none of Danny's actions have really been angry. The growling hadn't been the real growl Steve's heard pit bulls make, and even the snapping hadn't been anywhere near Steve's body.

Steve's missing something and what he's doing now isn't helping, so he changes tactics.

"Hey, Danny?"

The dog tilts his head to side and fixes Steve with another look the man can't understand.

"Is there a... a reason you won't let me up?"

Danny replies with a soft whuff.

"That's a yes, then?"

All he gets is a look, but it's one he recognizes perfectly, much as that worries him.

"Just making sure, okay? I don't normally talk to dogs," he says, mentally berating himself for acting like a child. There's no way Danny's really been responding to him. It's the tone of his voice the dog understands; his father had explained it to Mary and him when they were children. There's no way-

Danny nods, then returns his head to Steve's belly, sighing softly. He looks sad for a moment as he returns Steve's gaze, mobile features demonstrating some deep emotion in the dog's mind. His eyes even water a little before he turns away and sneezes on Steve's bare leg.

"Ugh, that's disgusting!"

Danny looks at him flatly, then grins. Steve hates him a little bit right then.

"You gonna let me up, buddy? I really don't want your snot all over me."

The dog hesitates, but does get up, allowing Steve to do the same.

Steve takes advantage of his unexpected freedom to stand up and start making his way to the bathroom, only to stop and look back at Danny, who has, completely unsurprisingly, jumped back on the bed and curled up. Suddenly feeling vindictive- and justified in feeling this way- Steve swiftly begins to return to the bed, fully prepared to wipe the still somewhat wet snarffle on Danny, only to come to a stop a foot or so from the bed when Danny, having fallen asleep, stretches and puts his head on Steve's pillow, burying his face in it and breathing deeply.

The site of it makes Steve pause and reconsider. He decides that now isn't the time and goes to the shower instead, the image of Danny making himself comfortable making Steve uncomfortable. He's never had a pet before, and while he'd logically understood the kind of devotion the relationship can engender, it hadn't been until just now, seeing the kind of contentment he's given Danny, that it clicks.

What he's seeing in Danny is the kind of unconditional love he's always craved. His mother had loved him, but he'd been a teenager when she'd died and nowhere near secure enough in himself to believe he was worth her love. His father had tried, but he'd always been too distant, even before the accident. Then there's Mary, who does love him the best she can, but she's never had this kind of love, either.

It doesn't matter to the dog on the bed that Steve's killed men, that he's probably wound up hurting women and children, too. It doesn't matter that there are things Steve has done that make him want to shower and scrub himself raw or until his skin is pink and new, because there are days he can't help but think of all the things he's been called during his time as a soldier: contaminated and disgusting, child killer, war monger. It doesn't matter to Danny that Steve has tried to kill himself more than once.

None of it or the other hundreds of things that plague Steve's sleep matter to Danny, because Danny doesn't see past his love for Steve, would probably follow him across the world... and Steve, Steve would go around the world for Danny.

He ends up standing in the bathroom doorway for longer than he'd intended, and when he comes to himself, he hurriedly strips and jumps into the shower, furiously shampooing and getting clean everywhere else as quickly as he can.

Just under two minutes pass before he emerges, towel around his shoulders, rushing to find the clothes he could have sworn he'd laid out the night before. As he searches, he notices that at some point, Danny must have woken up- probably when Steve stubbed his toe on the bed- because the dog is currently sitting up and watching him with an expression clearly stating that he's finding Steve's search comical.

Suddenly embarrassed, Steve transfers the towel to his waist, telling himself that he just doesn't want to risk stubbing his cock as he runs around. He doesn't stop to analyze the feeling that Danny can see more than normal dogs and has proved to be more intelligent as well, and he definitely doesn't think about the way Danny's entire face is smiling and looks almost ready to burst into laughter.

Continuing his search and refusing just to give up and find different ones, Steve takes advantage of the time to push down the blush moving from his face to his chest.

After running down the stairs, looking all over the kitchen, living room and even the lanai, he returns to his room and Danny, incredibly frustrated. It isn't until he looks back at the bed and sees that a lump has formed beneath Danny's rump that he realizes where his clothes have wound up.

Shaking his head, he sneaks across the room and reaches under Danny to grab hold of his now-wrinkled clothing, but before he's managed to extricate himself and his clothes, he finds himself with a face full of unhappy pit bull. Steve can't escape, though, because his hand is stuck under the dog, and he isn't cruel enough to push Danny aside.

Danny decides that that moment is perfect for whining, and barely a moment has passed before Steve is assaulted by round blue eyes and the most pitiful sound he's ever heard. Danny even raises a paw and puts it on Steve's face, his mournful whines growing louder.

"I'm sorry, Danny, but I can't-" Danny shifts and puts his other paw on Steve's cheek. "Stop it. Come on, Danny. I know you don't like it, but I've got to get dressed for work."

The dog doesn't budge.

"At least let me get my pants."

Eyes narrowing, Danny shifts enough for one hind leg to push a single pair of boxers free, which Steve immediately grabs, his position changing enough to knock Danny off balance and fall to the bed with a thud and a quick exhale.

Slightly guilty, Steve takes advantage of the opportunity to grab the rest of his clothes and dash to the door, barely managing to slam it shut behind him before Danny crashes through.

With a sigh, Steve jumps into his clothing and makes his way to the door, deciding to grab something either on his way to work or from Chin's stash of mid-case snacks.

He hasn't quite made it to safety, though, and his thoughts are derailed violently when Danny, whom Steve had thought had resigned himself to the bedroom, makes one final bid to keep Steve from leaving: howling.

Never in Steve's life has he heard anything make so much noise so sadly. The howls sound as if Danny's heart is breaking, and they freeze Steve where he is. He's heard wolves howl, even heard some of his buddies' hounds make the noise, but none of the other dogs had sounded the way Danny does. The closest thing Steve has for comparison is the way one woman's mournful sobs had turned into agonizing screams at her son's funeral. It's not a comparison Steve likes making, but between the whimpers and throat-ripping noises he's now heard both make, he can't not hear the similarities.

He doesn't stay in the house, though. He knows that you have to be consistent with pets, and he can't let Danny make the decisions for them. Someone could be in danger or dead, and it's Steve's job to be sure that any threats to his island are stopped.

Still, he isn't able to shake the feeling that Danny's warning him about something.

Finding HQ- or what's left of it, at least- blows the entire thing into another world of dread.

* * *

It takes him about half an hour to find out what happened and to reassure himself that his team and everyone around is all right.

The first thing he learns is that almost an hour ago, a fire was reported, one so hot and large that it had completely incinerated Five-0's HQ. The second thing is that Chin, Kono and Lori had gone out to assist HPD on a routine arrest and weren't anywhere near the blast zone. Max had called in sick earlier in the week and is at home- still sick but thankfully alive. Finally, the fire department had arrived in time to stop the flames from spreading, so only HQ was affected.

As he surveys the ruins of their headquarters, Steve suddenly realizes that if Danny hadn't acted up and made him late, he would have been inside when the bomb denoted. He would have been one of the dark smears or sweeping piles of ash all around.

The fire department's still running its preliminaries and the rest of the team is working with HPD to find a way to catch the suspected perp- who'd escaped during the confusion following the fire- so Steve decides to take a moment and call Stan Edwards, sure that the man knows something about Danny he isn't sharing.

After pressing one of the numbers he'd added to his phone after getting Danny, Steve fiddles with one of his belt loops as he waits.

 _"Hello,"_ comes a woman's voice _. "You've reached the work number for Stanley Edwards. Please leave your name, number to call, times appropriate for a return call and a brief message. Thank you."_

"Stan," Steve begins, "this is Steve. I'm sure you've heard about the bomb earlier. I need to talk to you about it- and more importantly, about Danny. Call me as soon as you get this, no matter the time, at-"

The line suddenly comes alive with a click.

 _"Commander McGa- ah, Steve?"_ asks the businessman. _"Yes, I did hear about the fire, but I'm not sure what you want from me, or how I can help with Danny."_

"There are some questions I need you to answer. Will you meet me somewhere?"

A beat passes, then a second, before Stan replies.

_"Yes, I'll just clear some things from my schedule. Everything ought to be settled within... half an hour."_

"Good. There's a small restaurant just a few blocks from Five-0 HQ. It's called the Mea Huna1 and-"

_"And I'm familiar with it. I'll meet you there as quickly as possible."_

The line goes dead as soon as Stan finishes, which leaves a bad taste in Steve's mouth. Something is definitely going on, and he has a feeling it isn't something simple.

Sixteen minutes pass after which Steve is seated in a back booth at Mea Huna, waiting impatiently for Stan's arrival. He goes through what he's going to ask over and over again, checking for details he might not have thought to ask the first time, reminding himself of what he's been seeing.

What he hasn't taken into account is Stan himself. As soon as the man has sat down, his briefcase tossed beside him, he launches into a tumbling monologue.

"Danny is, as you've noticed, particularly intelligent for a dog. I don't know much about why he is the way he is since he belonged to Richard, a man you would be correct to assume wasn't a fan of mine. What I do know, however, is that back on the mainland, in the East Coast in particular, there was a study and some experimentation carried out regarding the possibility of animals with human-levels of intelligence and that Danny was one of them before the research was scrapped after being deemed cruel- both to humans and animals. That may not sound like me knowing much, but I assure you that it is a great deal less than the whole picture."

Taking a deep, almost gasping, breath, Stan stops and finally looks at Steve, whose brow has furrowed and his eyes closed to slits.

"Why didn't you tell me this earlier?"

"I'm not supposed to know!" Stan whispers earnestly. "The only reason I know anything is because of Danny himself."

"Danny? What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about Danny grabbing my sleeve-" Stan takes Steve's forearm in his hand- "tugging on it-" He does the same to Steve- "and pulling me to Richard's desk." He leans close, then, his head nearly crushed against Steve's. "He _pushed aside_ some folders before grabbing one and _dropping it at my feet._ "

Stan moves back but continues to look directly into Steve's face, suddenly desperate.

"I live a relatively calm life, Commander. There've been a few run ins with unhappy people, but none of them have defied logic. A dog who seems to understand human speech, who roots around the top of a desk and _picks out paperwork as though he can read it?_ That is beyond what I am accustomed to, but it's what happened. Danny's special, Steve. I don't know what makes him this way or how he came to be so... nearly human, but I do know that he is a not some 'good dog.' He's the best."

Thrown, Steve can only look at the man sitting across the table and try not to appear as disconcerted as he is.

Stan speaks up again after an uncomfortably long silence.

"Here, I, uh... I copied the contents of the folder," he explains, reaching into his briefcase and shuffling its contents. "There are only two papers, in all honesty, but, well, two censored papers are better than none."

Having found them, Stan returns his gaze to Steve's face but soon looks away and begins to fidget in his seat once he's handed them over.

It takes Steve about half a minute to read and commit the first paper to memory and another minute and a half for the second, but when he looks at Stan again, he doesn't look as if he's understood a single word he's read. His expression is one that Stan knows well, having seen it for weeks after the first time he'd read them.

"Go."

Steve blinks, startled.

"Go," Stan urges. "Men like you, you learn best when you do things, so go. Do things. Get back to Danny; he's probably worried."

Stomach between his legs, Steve nods, tucking the papers into one of his pockets, and is about to drop the money for a drink he'd nearly forgotten he'd had, but Stan waves him off, both with a gesture and a, "Now, Steve."

He resists the urge to turn on the lights and speed back, but it's a difficult task.

* * *

The moment he pulls up, his ears are assaulted by the sound of hoarse howling. Somehow, Danny's distress has become more poignant. Steve had thought it had been bad earlier that morning, but as he walks- rushes- to the front door, he finds that he'd been wrong. Aided- or perhaps more accurately worsened- by what's probably been a day of crying out, Danny sounds as though he's been left alone for days or weeks, even months, rather a few hours.

Disturbed nearly to the point of howling himself, Steve abandons his earlier decision to remain calm before he hurries to unlock his door- barely disregarding the option of kicking it in in time- and dashes up the stairs, his heart in his throat when the noises grow louder, then stop.

Grabbing the handle, Steve has a sudden moment of gratitude for the idea of outward swinging doors, as he may have accidentally smashed Danny's face in if the door weren't heading for his own.

Head cocked and one doggy arm- _foreleg,_ Steve reminds himself, because he refuses to become imprecise even with a pet- raised, stands an extremely forlorn Danny, but it only takes him a fraction of a second to change from distressed to ecstatic.

Trembling with what Steve hopes is excitement to see him and not a sign of some sort of psychological trauma- or physical, if Danny had gotten that worried- Danny rushes forward and jumps at Steve, his body crushing against Steve's abdomen even as he lets out the happiest bark Steve's ever heard.

It had been difficult to withstand the force of the dog tornado rushing him while remaining on his feet, but once Danny has, after another four or five aborted second tries, calmed down, Steve finds himself sitting on floor with his back to the foot of the bed and an exhausted pit bull nearly asleep on his lap.

Stroking Danny's sides is, in Steve's newly formed opinion, something of a rush. He knows the kind of reputation that pit bulls- both types, American and Straffordshire, as he'd researched and discovered that pit bull isn't an actual breed- have and can see the strength rammed into Danny's short body. Compared with all the types of dogs, most of which are the shepherds and retrievers he'd seen in the service, pit bulls seem to be the most capable killers, so having one sprawled across his lap is a small adrenaline thrill.

The action is also slowly lulling him to sleep, almost as much as it is Danny.

In this state of half hyper awareness and half drowsiness, Steve decides that now, rather than later, is the time to try what he'd been pondering in the truck.

"Hey, Danny?"

The dog sighed but did lift his head to give Steve a half-lidded look.

"Danny? Can you, uh, understand me?"

This time, the dog wriggles enough to sit between Steve's legs and gives the man a measuring look. He holds Steve's gaze for an uncomfortably long time, then nods.

Steve's eyes hurt from the force of them getting blown wide open.

"You-? Wait."

Danny yawns with a pointed look.

"You can understand me?"

Danny nods, and if his face could express a loud teenager making an unpleasant face and sticking his tongue out while shouting, "Duh!" that's what it

would be saying.

"But how?"

The look he gets this time is a mixture of resigned frustration- which is probably expressed more in the way Danny shrugs his shoulders- and, "Yeah, 'cause I can explain that without human speech, huh?"

"Okay, all right, stupid question. This hasn't changed my entire life at all. A dog that understands human speech, that's nothing. No problem. Why would I ask such a stupid thing?"

Danny's expression turns sour.

"What? I'm sorry."

Danny looks away.

"Hey, come on, Danny. I said I'm sorry."

Danny continues looking away and starts to shift, looking about ready to leave.

"I really am sorry, Danny."

The dog's head swivels a bit, and he opens one eye suspiciously.

"Come on... Please forgive me?" Steve hesitates, then adds, "Danno?"

The eye narrows suspiciously and a tiny growl escapes, but Danny doesn't do anything more as he looks back at Steve.

Blue eyes coldly surveying the man as Steve reaches out and puts a hand on Danny's head, the dog allows the contact, even leans into it slightly when Steve scratches the top of his ear, right where it joins the top of Danny's head.

"Thank you, Danno."

Danny is immediately growling again, prickling at Steve's use of the name, his posture growing tense as he starts to hunker closer to the floor, though his progress is hindered slightly by Steve's legs. Undeterred, the dog continues to make angry noises and slowly sinking to the floor.

Were he not struggling with the small space, Danny would have appeared more dangerous, but as it is, he looks more like an overgrown puppy trying to fit into an old hiding place than a killer preparing to rip his prey apart.

Steve can't stop the smile that fights its way onto his face, but he does manage to suppress the laughter that had started to bubble up the moment Danny'd begun his inadvertent puppy act.

In return, Danny scowls and bites the air in front of Steve's nose. It's clear to Steve that Danny isn't actually in a violent mood, though- he's pretty sure that if the pit bull were truly angry, he'd be dead- so he reaches out and cups Danny's face with his hands. Steve gets far closer to Danny than is advisable, but there's something in the way the dog's entire face lights up when Steve pays attention to him that makes Steve think that maybe if he's careful enough, he can get Danny to trade the scowls for more of his happy face.

...which is when he remembers why he's home in the first place.

"Danno?" he asks.

Eyes narrowed again, Danny nods.

"How did you know about the bomb?"

Danny sighs heavily before getting to his feet, stretching and starting to walk away.

When he reaches the door, he looks back, and when he sees that Steve is still sitting, he barks a single, sharp bark.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, they're standing on the lanai as Danny looks between Steve and the door, thoroughly engaged in a somewhat frustrated round of dog charades as Steve attempts to decipher what Danny's trying to tell him.

"What? What is it about the door?" Steve winds up shouting.

Danny growls back at him. Obviously as angry as Steve, he starts to stalk around the lanai, only to become annoyed with that and sit down heavily, his head knocking the door.

"Hey, watch it! I don't want Kamekona's cousins back arou-"

Danny barks when Steve mentions the large local and his relatives.

"What? You're saying that _Kamekona_ had something to do with this? Come on, Danno-"

The pit bull is already shaking his head.

"Who, then, Danno? If not Kamekona, then who else-" He breaks off. " _His cousins?_ You heard his cousins talking about it? That doesn't make sense, Danny, not at all. There's no way they'd do something like that. They're a small time family, nothing like back-"

Danny barks again, and this time he sounds close to something, either tears or ripping Steve's leg off and eating it. The two are surprisingly similar sounds.

"What? Danno, I have no idea what you're trying to say."

The dog growls- closer to ripping off body parts than crying, apparently- then perks up suddenly. He scrambles forward and sticks his nose into one of Steve's pockets, the one in which he keeps his phone. Giving the man a look when Steve starts laughing and pushing him away, Danny manages to snatch the device and start to make his escape, only to find himself falling to the ground with Steve on top, one hand desperately grabbing at Danny's jaws.

When Danny still hasn't returned it after two minutes, Steve starts to grow worried and is about to try something more drastic when his phone goes off.

Startled by the vibrations in his mouth, Danny drops the phone, which Steve immediately grabs, wipes on his shirt and, with some trepidation, puts to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Commander McGarrett? This is Fong."

Steve sighs, the fear that this was going to be bad news receding somewhat. HPD calling isn't a good thing, but since it's Fong and he doesn't sound angry or particularly worried- not much more than he usually does when he's on the phone- Steve isn't as concerned as he could be.

"What's going on, Fong?"

"The preliminary report from the fire department was just released, and I thought I'd let you know."

"Yeah? What've you got, then?"

"Not a whole lot that'll get you much of anywhere: arson without a doubt, an easily bought accelerant- gasoline, just like with that photographer- and one other thing..."

Sensing hesitation from the other man, Steve urges him on. "What else, Fong?"

"Well... There's no easy way to say this, but point of origin was your office."

"My- my office?"

"Ah, yeah... The amount of accelerant found there was far greater than anywhere else. The investigators were almost overwhelmed by it, even after the fire was out."

Steve falls silent, working his brain over the new information. Setting a fire is something of a planned crime of passion. It's something done when someone is angry- or covering something else. His office doesn't have any evidence, just paperwork, so it seems more likely that the fire was set as some sort of angry message to him, but from whom?

His thoughts are interrupted by Fong.

"I'm sorry, but I just got a ton of evidence that needs to be processed. If I find anything, I'll call you."

"All right, thanks," he replies distractedly.

He's making his way into the house, still pondering who would set HQ alight- especially by starting in his office- and why, when Danny suddenly runs up and knocks into him, jolting him enough to startle him into letting go.

Danny then rushes forward and scoops the phone into his mouth.

Steve sighs, holding his hand out in the hopes that the dog, who has turned around, will give the device back.

Danny has other plans.

"Hey, Danno, come on! I need that!"

Danny's bark is muffled by the phone in his mouth as he scurries into the house, the scratch of his nails audible above his panting.

Steve follows him as quickly as he can, hoping he won't find a puddle of drool waiting for him.

Luckily for him, instead of a drool puddle, there's only Danny, who's standing in front by the door and grinning around the phone in his mouth, and as soon as he sees Steve, he smiles even wider and his rump begins slipping from him on the floor.

Much as he wants to be annoyed at the dog, Steve finds he can only smile at Danny.

"All right, Danny, what are you trying to tell me?"

Danny waits until Steve has drawn close, then drops the phone- which has only minimal bite marks, if plenty of slobber- but before Steve can pick it up, Danny firmly plants a forepaw on the screen, directing his gaze into Steve's face before looking back to the phone- then again at Steve and back to the the phone.

It takes a moment, but Steve figures out what Danny's trying to tell him.

He leans over and picks up the phone, checking the screen as he does. The name on the screen confuses him for a moment, then makes him angry.

"There's no way this was Kamekona, Danny! Even when he was a criminal he never did anything violent. He couldn't possibly have-"

He's cut off by a low snarl. Danny's wound up crouching, his body scrunched tight and belly almost touching the floor. His eyes are narrowed, and with every inhale, he makes a noise in the back of his throat that's higher than his snarl but deeper and rougher than a bark. Every time he makes it, Steve's gut clenches, every muscle tensing in preparation for Danny's attack.

...an attack that doesn't come.

Minutes pass and Danny's posture doesn't change, but he doesn't actually make a move toward Steve. His lips pull back and his teeth remain bared, but all he does is stay crouched, staring at Steve.

It's noisy and, if Steve is honest, intimidating, but the longer he watches Danny, the more sure he becomes that Danny isn't truly angry. The dog is trying to make a point. Steve just has to figure out what it is.

He begins a list of things he knows.

One, someone set fire to HQ. Two, furthering number one, that person began the fire in his office. Three, he or she was angry with him, not trying to cover something up. Four, Kamekona and/or his cousins were involved. Five, Kamekona wasn't the one who set the fire, not if Danny is to be believed, which Steve thinks he is. Six, the longer cases go, the less likely they'll be solved. Seven, Danny knows something. Eight, Danny was trying to tell him something by the back door, so he probably overheard something from the cousins. Nine, after grabbing the phone, Danny somehow- about which Steve is resolutely not thinking- managed to pull Kamekona's number up. Finally, judging by Danny's reactions, there's more going on than Steve had previously assumed. It isn't just that Danny understands human speech and actions, he can process them and react accordingly, which means that it's about time for Steve to call in some favors and get some answers.

As he puzzles through the information, Steve watches Danny and notices that the longer he waits and thinks, the less tense Danny gets. By the end, in fact, Danny has almost returned to his usual stance, only a tension in his legs, a shifted position that will allow him to move more quickly, making him appear anything but relaxed.

Steve can't hold it against him, not when Danny is so obviously protecting Kamekona. The CI may not always be someone of whom Steve thinks as ohana, but Steve does care about him and his safety. Why he's so important to Danny, though, Steve has no idea.

With some reluctance, Steve returns his attention to the phone, and this time Danny loses the tension in his legs as he slips back to sit on his haunches and watch Steve.

"So what you're saying is I should talk to Kamekona? His cousins, too, right?"

Danny nods, which Steve doesn't think will ever not look unnatural.

"Well, let's go."

* * *

Danny spends the entire ride with his head out the window, grinning into the breeze and sniffing deeply.

Steve spends the ride fighting off a tension headache and wishing he'd just given in and taken the damn Excedrin.

By the time they arrive at the shrimp truck, Danny looks as if he couldn't possibly be happier, whereas Steve feels ready to drop. That he has to wrestle with Danny to put the leash on- people hadn't seemed happy to see a pit bull roaming free, completely unhindered- only makes the headache worse, and when Danny darts back inside the truck after Steve's finally managed to get him out and onto the leash, Steve can feel his eyes start to water and his vision start to blur.

Then he hears the tell tale clatter of pills in a bottle and looks from the ground to find Danny sitting a few feet away, familiar green bottle clenched between his teeth. The site is so welcoming, he's willing to overlook the smug expression Danny's wearing.

"Let's go, Danno," Steve says with a gentle tug on the leash after carefully prying the bottle from Danny's jaws.

Simply having the bottle and the knowledge that all he needs is a swallow of water- dry swallowing pills may look cool, at least according to Mary, but they won't go down correctly, which Steve really needs them to do- gives him a bit of relief, enough to bear the large local's bright greeting and convince him that what Steve really needs is something to drink.

"Hey, brah," Kamekona says a few minutes later, once there don't seem to be any customers around, "I heard my cousins fixed up your back door. 'S all good now, right?"

Steve nods but can't quite smile.

"Yeah, they fixed it fine, but I'm not actually here about that..."

"Then what?" The heavyset man's brow furrows.

"Look... That fire at HQ, you know it, right?"

"Mm, everybody knows that fire."

"And I'm guessing you know that it was arson, not an accident."

"I heard a few whispers, yeah, but what's that got to do with me?"

"Someone came forward and said that your cousins know something about it."

He's barely finished the sentence when Kamekona starts to shake his head.

"No way, brudduh, that's not possible. Me an' Aumoe go way back, ain't no way he did anything like that, and Hiapo's got a sistah he supports. There ain't nothing he'd do to risk her," Kamekona replies, shaking his head. "No way it was my cousins, McGarrett," he says, soft.

Steve nods, because he doesn't think they had anything to do with the fire itself but that they might have information about someone who did- provided Danny's right, which Steve can't doubt at this point.

"I'm not saying they had anything to do with the fire, Kamekona, but I think they might know something about the person or people who did. They aren't in any trouble and I'm not going to arrest them, but I really do need to talk to them."

He feels the other man looking at him and looks back as steadily as he can, the headache's grip still making everything too bright and loud.

Eventually, the shrimp vendor nods.

"Okay, okay, I'll call them, tell them to go...?" he trails off, unsure where to send his cousins since Five-0's HQ is gone.

"To my house, tomorrow at eight pm." Steve gets up, putting a hand on Kamekona's as he makes his way to his truck. "Don't worry, Kamekona. They'll be fine."

As the CI nods, obviously unconvinced, Steve moves on, Danny, who'd been oddly silent through the brief conversation, trotting beside him.

Once back in the the truck, the two sit in silence for a few minutes, Steve thinking about what he's going to tell his team as Danny studies him, head cocked in interest.

Steve turns to him once he's got the basic idea of how he's going to proceed.

"It's time to talk to my team- and introduce you, too, I guess."

Danny yaps once, then sticks his head out the window.

* * *

As far as the unpleasant task of telling his team he's gone off on his own goes, this time isn't as bad, the lack of actual physical danger probably helping. Chin goes quiet and shakes his head, the picture of parental disappointment, as Kono glares daggers at him over Chin's shoulder and refuses to listen to his admittedly poor excuses, but it's Lori's downcast features and quiet, "I thought we were a team," that hits him the hardest. He knows they hate it when he does things on his own- has had Chin, Kono and, before she transfered to the CIA, Jenna all tell him needs to start relying on them- but he's used to receiving intelligence and reacting, not taking time to make phone calls. Apparently, though, that excuse has worn thin and is about to be ripped to shreds.

Happily for him, there's something that smooths things between the rest of his team and him: introducing them to Danny. Chin had already seen him up close, of course, and the other two had gotten a look at him from a distance, but having them meet Danny- who is adored by all, including Max and Fong when they meet on later cases- is something Steve didn't have to do, so it gains back some of the points he'd lost earlier.

Once everyone has had a chance to meet and shake hands with Danny- a trick Steve probably should have known the dog can do- and the pit bull has found a place in the sun where he can stretch out and enjoy Lori rubbing the base of his ears, Five-0 gets down to business.

It's agreed that meeting the cousins in Steve's house isn't a bad idea- especially once Chin volunteers himself as backup since he can speak pidgin and Hawai'ian with the greatest ability, which will make the men more comfortable- and the four get to work planning the questions Steve and Chin will ask.

They're about to leave, having decided that Chin will join Steve an hour before the other men are to arrive, when Danny suddenly leaps to his feet and runs out the door and through the rest of the HPD office in which Five-0 is temporarily staying, the team a few strides behind him.

As he gets closer to the front door, Danny, suddenly stops and starts sniffing the air.

Barely enough time for the team to catch up passes before he's off again, this time down a side corridor, his nails clicking on the floor and his legs occasionally slipping on the smooth tiles.

Nose to the floor, Danny races down the hallway, panting heavily but moving ahead regardless. He looks over his shoulder periodically, though, and at one point catches Steve's eye. Still moving quickly, Danny narrows his eyes and shakes his head, which doesn't help Steve at all.

Steve is about to suggest they stop, planning to cite Danny's ability to find his way back, when the dog rockets toward one door in particular and smashes his body against it, only to bounce away and throw himself back again.

Thinking that Danny's going to do serious damage to himself, Steve moves to intercept yet another rush, only for the door to the room to fly open and an angry looking officer to step out. Having moved through the doorway, the officer leaves room for Danny to wriggle his way into the room before him, and no one even has time to question, aloud, what's going on, when they hear a shriek.

Steve pushes past the officer and finds Danny standing by a now-empty chair, his head cocked to the side and nostrils flaring as he sniffs around. His sight remains trained on a woman pressed into the far corner, though, and every few minutes he makes a small huff, which makes the woman shudder.

"Danny, what the hell?"

Unperturbed by Steve's shout, Danny continues his sniffing, moving from the air to the floor, which he follows to the woman in the corner who has begun to cry, mumbling something Steve can't understand.

"Danny!" Steve tries again, and this time Danny looks at him, if only for a moment, because he then returns his nose to the floor and making his way to the woman's feet which, after his nose bumps them, begin to tremble and are suddenly covered by the woman herself, shaking so heavily she can't remain standing.

"Commander McGarrett, what's going on?" comes the officer's voice as he draws closer, intending to separate dog from woman. He's obviously angry but taking the time to be courteous. "Pets aren't allowed here, and this woman is obviously afraid of dogs."

"He isn't a pet; Danny's a police dog."

"A police dog?" the officer asks incredulously, not at all convinced.

"Yeah, a service dog. We have them, don't we?"

"Well, yes, but-"

"No buts, officer. This is Daniel, Five-0's service dog."

Steve hears Lori ask if he's lost his mind and Kono's reply that she's been doubting that he has one for a while but is too busy trying not to give massive lie away because he doesn't know what he'll do if he gets caught.

His luck seems to be strong for getting out of bad situations today, because before he has to answer any more questions- or make up any evidence- Danny stops sniffing and makes his way out the door.

"Well, I'd better keep track of him. Good luck with your..." Steve looks around, finally taking in the desk and harsh lighting, "questioning, officer."

The rest of the team is right behind him as Steve hurries after Danny.

"Steve, you do know that not every dog can be a service dog, that they need training and certifications, right? You know that they keep records of police dogs, just as they do for people?" Chin asks, drawing even with him.

"I wasn't really thinking about that," Steve grits, not sure whether he's more angry at Danny for pulling a stunt like that or at himself for... a lot of things, actually.

"Look, Steve, why don't you take Danny and go home?" Lori interjects.

Unprepared for this, Steve feels something pop in his neck as he looks over his shoulder at her.

"I'm serious. We've had two high-stress situations in as many days; we could all use the rest of the day- and as much of tomorrow as we can get- to unwind."

Steve blinks.

"I'm with Lori," Kono chimes in. "First you were in a hostage situation _with a grenade,_ then got thrown into HQ's arson. I know we can't just abandon this, but a few hours off when we have no leads and the fire department hasn't even finished fully investigating shouldn't do too much damage."

"You're planning something," Steve responds, eyes narrowed. "I know we haven't had much time off lately, but this is more support for time off than you've ever shown, especially with an investigation going."

The women drop their gazes.

Chin, however, meets Steve's.

"Kamekona told us you were talking to a dog yesterday, Steve, and the way you were acting with Danny earlier... A few hours to wind down a little can't hurt."

Still suspicious, Steve looked to Lori and Kono and waited. It took only a few more seconds for them to crack.

"I'm behind on paperwork!"

"The waves at my favorite spot are going to be really good!"

Steve nods, then turns to Chin, one brow raised.

"Malia's off tonight," he explains with a shrug, but the upturn of his lips suggests he's trying hard not to grin.

Paperwork- Lori's compulsion to find the least offensive way to describe certain things the team, but mostly he, has done takes a while- surfing on day with particularly good waves and rekindling relationships are all more believable than simply wanting him to unwind, so Steve takes what they say without questioning them more. In fact, hearing their reasons has made him smile, so he's feeling charitable anyway.

"Now that you're being honest, fine- we'll all take the night off. Chin and I'll regroup before we talk to the cousins tomorrow, and you two can come back here to work on any leads Fong may have found."

The others nod and hurry away, off to do what they love- and one person to finish what she doesn't- leaving Steve alone in the station.

Danny's waiting for him by the car, where Steve had figured he'd be. There's a strange expression on the dog's face, as though he's trying to puzzle through something but not getting anywhere, but that doesn't stop Steve from questioning him the moment they've climbed into the cab.

"What the hell were you doing, Danny? That woman was _crying_. She was obviously terrified, and no matter how much Chin and the others tell me my methods are overboard, that was too much. She wasn't even a suspect in our case."

Danny's expression has darkened into one that clearly asks, "Are you done yet?"

Steve glares at him.

Danny barks, then jerks his head in the direction of the road.

"What? What are you trying to say, Danny?"

The dog jumps forward and puts his forepaws on the dash. His lips pull back as he growls and bares his teeth.

"Damn it, Danny, I'm trying, all right? I can't just read your mind; you've got to give me something!"

He's barely finished when the dog throws himself at him, again nosing into Steve's pocket and fishing out his cell phone.

Taken by surprise, Steve veers violently into the other lane, thankful no one was coming.

"Danny!" he shouts.

The dog looks at him, and there's something so unhappy in his face that Steve suddenly realizes that he wasn't just sniffing that woman. He was in there for a reason.

With that single realization, the fury that's been just beneath the surface dissipates.

"God... What are you doing, Danny?"

Danny drops the phone onto the seat beneath him and, to Steve's surprise, carefully presses the screen with one of the little toes on his left forepaw.

"What...?"

Danny shakes his head, which Steve interprets as, "Wait a minute."

Steve nods and focuses on driving. He has a feeling that getting home isn't going to be as relaxing as he team had suggested.

* * *

The first thing Steve does after arriving home is grab three beers, one of which he immediately drinks. The other two he brings with him onto the lanai where Danny is lying, stretched across the floor as long as he can get. His position combined with the twist of absolute bliss on his face, which happens to be lying on Steve's cell phone, are enough to make Steve smile, even if it's not quite as bright as usual.

Flopping onto the nearest chair, Steve sighs with relief and ignores the part of his brain that says he's gone soft. The Navy never taught him how to deal with dogs that can't exactly talk but can understand and communicate well enough to be human, which gives him a free pass to be as tired as he pleases (He'll make himself swim an extra mile or two tomorrow morning).

"All right, Danny," he begins, opening his second bottle, "what are you trying to tell me?"

Cocking his head, Danny studies him for a minute, then grabs the phone- again between the teeth, the thing's going to wind up broken or electrocuting Danny, even if he doesn't slather it in saliva- and trots over to drop it on Steve's lap.

On the screen is a set of numbers: 777722233668

Steve stares at it, uncomprehending, then immediately begins mentally running through every code and every he knows, to whatever degree, but after fifteen minutes of advanced mathematical olympics, he winds up with his head in his hands after drinking the entirety of the second and half of the third, taking out his frustration with his inability to solve Danny's code on the alcohol.

Throughout Steve's mind-probing, Danny had gone from casually splayed out to pacing with frustration, and when Steve finally puts his head in his hands and says he can't understand it, Danny sighs heavily.

"Is it Morse Code?"

Danny gives him a withering look, just as he had every other time.

"I know it doesn't make sense, but, Danny, nothing else does."

Huffing with irritation, Danny wanders into the house, looking over his shoulder to make sure Steve is following- which he is, a little slowly and slightly less gracefully than usual, but he can do it.

With his follower secured, Danny makes his way through the rooms until he finds a landline he can reach- an old cord phone that's almost never to be seen, but a landline nonetheless. He then noses it off the hook and examines the wide part of it between mouthpiece and speaker, only to discover that it doesn't have a key pad. With a sigh and a shake his head, he then replaces the phone with only a little bit of sliding and frustration and moves back through the house to another landline.

The one he wants this time is at Steve's eyeline and cordless with a visible keypad, but since he can't reach it- which he does try to do, even standing on his hind legs and reaching with his front- he can only stand beneath it and glare at Steve, who can barely stand he's laughing so hard.

Calming himself, Steve manages to stop laughing and make way to the phone, only to trip and fall a few feet before he reaches it.

Suddenly tired, he curls into a ball and promptly falls asleep.

Danny, who'd previously been about to snap at Steve's knees in frustration, changes his plans and, after grabbing a sheet and dragging it over Steve, flops down beside him and falls asleep as well.

* * *

Steve wakes up after one o'clock the next afternoon and promptly gets up, ignoring his thankfully minimal hangover, and runs to his bedroom to change into his swimming trunks.

Danny follows him somewhat more sedately, so he arrives in time for Steve to drop his pants, only for the man to realize he left them downstairs (which is why he hates getting even a little tipsy, because he always forgets his patterns after drinking).

About to run down, he's stopped by the sight of Danny holding them.

"Danno!"

In return, Danny yawns, just as something rumbles deep in his stomach- yet again getting Steve to smile.

Once he's slipped into his trunks, Steve heads down the stairs and into the kitchen where he measures out Danny's breakfast and puts it down for him, only to decide to slip him a small reward and grab some cold chicken from the fridge to add to the top of Danny's kibble.

The bright light in the dog's eyes upon seeing the treat pulls a bit of laughter from Steve, who immediately wishes it hadn't.

If he wants to get his full swim in, as well as the extra he'd tacked on the day before, and have time to recover enough to talk to Chin and Kamekona's cousins, he needs to get moving, so with a quick glance to assure himself that Danny's find (He is) and double checking that the back door's dog door is working, he runs to the beach and dives in.

Three and a half hours later, he finishes his swim and is walking back to the house. Danny meets him halfway with one of the house phones in his mouth, which is supposed to mean something to Steve but doesn't, so after patting Danny's side- which only earns him a glare- he makes it to the house and runs up the stairs to the bathroom for a shower.

Fifteen minutes and an Aspirin later, he's dressed and ready for Chin, who arrives at that moment.

The two immediately go over the questions they'll ask and anything else they may need to plan before dealing with the cousins, and when they're finished doing that, they have a little under twenty minutes left, so they fall into small talk, which inevitably leads to Chin asking where Danny is.

"I just saw him before my shower..." Steve answers, suddenly concerned. Danny's usually nearby, and not knowing that the dog is there leaves him uncomfortably open. With Danny, there's an extra layer of protection, but without him, there's no one with extra sensitive senses... or a not-so-quiet companion.

They spend the rest of the time before six searching for Danny who is not: in the refrigerator, Steve's bathroom, the beach, the neighbors' yards, anywhere visible on the street, under Steve's bed, any of the spare rooms, again definitely not in the fridge.

A knock on the door stops their search, and Steve and Chin wind up spending the next forty five minutes talking to two men who obviously didn't have anything to do with the arson but who'd needed help from a third person in order to be sure that Steve's door had come out well (which it had, he assures them). This person- about whom the cousins know a suspiciously small amount- had expressed anti-Five-0 feelings but hadn't seemed to have any real desire to do anything.

Chin's Hawai'ian gets them slightly more; the person, who may have been a man or may have been a woman, since he or she had had long hair loose clothes, been unable to speak any pidgin and had an accent from the mainland that had made it particularly difficult to tell whether the person had been male or female. It obviously hadn't been from the Deep South or the Upper East Coast, at least not when guessing by Aumoe's admittedly poor impression or the slightly more scientific explanation by the quieter Hiapo. It's something they can see if Lori can analyze, though, and does narrow down the suspect pool, so they thank the men, who are surprisingly slender for relatives of Kamekona, which may be judgmental but that's part of the job: making judgments.

After calling Kono and Lori, Chin gets up to leave, only for Danny to come through the dog flap, Steve's phone in his mouth, and sit in front of him.

"Danny?" the man asks, confusion wrinkling his brow.

The dog places the phone in front of him, then bats at it with his paw, setting the screen alight with the numbers from the night before:

"Seven seven seven seven two two two three three six six eight?" Chin asks, uncomprehending.

"You have any idea what it means?" Steve asks. "It's hard to explain, but it's related to the case."

Chin studies the phone for a moment longer, apparently accepting Steve's explanation.

"You've run it through all the programs you can think of, right?"

Steve nods.

"I can't find anything that makes any sense."

"What if you're looking too deep?"

"Too deep? What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about..." Chin draws the last word out as he fishes in his pocket for his phone, which he pulls out then fiddles with the screen, most likely searching for an App or a Note. "There!"

"There? There, what?"

Chin holds his phone out, on which Steve notices there's a simulation of the older phones' numerical keypad with the letters underneath.

"Wait a minute. You're saying that these numbers are actually letters and that it isn't a real 'code?' It's just... the way we used to text?"

"Exactly. Look: seven seven seven seven is... S. Then two two two is C; three three, E; six six, N and eight, T. Scent? Does that mean anything to you?"

Steve shakes his head.

"No, but I know someone it will. Thank you, Chin."

Chin looks at him warily but accepts his thanks, wishes him a good night, then heads out the door, though he's sure to stop to give Danny a few strokes and tell him to have a good night, too.

As soon as Chin is gone, his motorcycle's motor just faded from Steve's earshot, he and Danny are facing each other on the floor.

"Scent? So you smelled something on that woman, then?"

Danny nods.

"What?"

Danny tips his head at the phone in Steve's hands, which Steve then passes to him.

The code on the second go is: 33344477733

"Three three three... that's f. Three fours is i... Three sevens is r... Two threes is e... Fire? You smelled fire on her?"

Danny shrugs, then reclaims the phone. 

7777616665533

"One? What the hell is the one, Danny? Punctuation?"

Danny glares, so Steve figures this is something he'll figure out as he goes along.

"S...m... period...o...k...e- oh. So the period was to separate the m and the o?"

Danny nods and again takes the phone.

"But wait. Smoke doesn't mean she set the fire; she could have just been nearby or with the firefighters."

He doesn't get a direct response, only another set of numbers.

4277776665554446633

"You can't pick small things, can you?" Steve grouses, in response to which Danny flops onto his stomach at Steve's feet and yawns. "Fair enough... gasoline, then? She smelled of smoke and gasoline?"

Grabbing the phone, Danny immediately sets to typing- or at least his impression of it- then, his message complete, tilts his head back and drops it on Steve's lap.

"Two six six three... Number sign? Or is that a sharp?" When Danny doesn't answer, doesn't even bother lifting his head, Steve again plows on. "Two six six four three three seven. A-n-d-sign-a-n-g-e-r... It's a space, then." He pauses. "You can smell anger?"

Danny looks up at Steve and shrugs.

The phone exchange isn't even something they pay attention to doing.

"E... m... o... t... i... o... n... s. Really?"

Danny nods.

"So you're telling me that you could smell that woman's anger and the smoke and gas? You can smell all that?"

The look he gets in return is flat enough to straighten out a mountain.

"That's a yes, then?"

Danny sighs heavily and gets to his feet, so Steve leans over to give his ears a ruffle. As he goes, however, something hits him.

"We had her yesterday, then? She might even be at HPD right now?"

Exasperated, Danny grabs Steve's hand between his teeth, though he's careful not to bite too hard, and tows him to the door.

"All right, all right, just give me a minute! I have to call the team; they won't forgive me if I leave them out."

Surprisingly, despite his obvious desire to get moving, Danny nods and doesn't harry Steve as the man dials Lori's number, slipping into his boots as he does so.

_"Steve?"_

"Hey, Lori. Look, I just got a tip off that that woman from yesterday, the one Danny scared, is our perp."

_"Is there any chance this came from the same source who sent you that code?"_

Steve pauses on his way to the truck, which prompts a sharp bar, from Danny.

"Chin told you?"

_"That's what teammates do, yeah."_

Steve grimaces.

"Well I'm telling you now that I'm going to the same station where we were yesterday and I'd appreciate it if you'd call Chin and Kono and have them me there, too."

_"Sure, no problem, but Steve?"_

"Yeah?"

The woman pauses, so Steve immediately starts searching for anything he might have done that would upset her.

_"I just wanted to say thank you."_

"Thank you? Why?"

_"For not having me transferred out after my... confession, for giving me a chance and, well, for making me feel like part of the team."_

He twists the key and feels the engine rev, but Steve's attention is on the woman on the other end.

"Lori, is there something I need to know?"

_"What? No, not really, I guess I was just expecting the call from one of the others."_

"You do know that you're part of this just as much as Chin, Kono and I are, right? You're part of our family, Lori, and if I wasn't treating you that way, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

The line is quiet for a few seconds.

 _"I, um... Thanks, Steve,"_  she responds, her voice slightly choked, and if ever there were a situation- excluding Danny- in which Steve has no idea what he's doing, it's being around someone who's crying. He's saved from certain social failure by Danny, who, though silent so far, chooses that moment to throw himself at the dash and start barking frantically.

"Damn it, Danny! Sorry, Lori, but Danny's having a fit."

_"It's fine. Sorry for getting all emotional there."_

"Don't worry about it. We'll meet with the others at the station?"

_"Yeah, see you there."_

As soon as Steve hangs up, Danny stops barking and returns to riding with his head out the window.

"What the hell was that?" Steve asks, confused and angry.

Danny merely tilts his head back into the cab, lifts one of his brows and studies Steve with a gaze that clearly says, "You're a moron."

"Come on, Danny. I thought you were having a seizure."

The look morphs into one that says something closer to an incredulous, "Were you dropped as a child?"

"Seriously, Danny, are you all right? And what was that?"

Without any warning, Danny throws himself fully into the cab and snatches Steve's phone, which he proceeds to shake, his large blue eyes suddenly soft and sad.

"And that's supposed to mean...?"

Danny repeats the action, this time squeezing his eyes shut first, so when he opens them, there are tears.

Steve frowns.

"What, Lori? Is there something about her, because she did sound odd-"

Danny doesn't even bother to stop him with more barking, simply sits and stares at him in an uncomfortably good impression of a bored student.

"Okay, so she isn't hiding anything?" Danny shakes his head. "So what about her?" Steve pauses, thinking. "Was it the crying, then? Were you... No... You were giving me a way out?"

Danny only shrugs, which may as well have been a howled, "Yes."

Smiling, Steve reaches over and scratches under Danny's chin and ignores the constipated look on the dog's face, something Danny gets a lot when he wants to pant and be happy but mentally refuses.

With Danny beside him, Steve finds that driving to the station isn't as lonely as it used to be.

* * *

Chin, Kono and Lori are already at the station when Steve arrives, which is eerily similar to their previous case. Chin looks unsurprised to have been dragged from his house in the late evening, but Kono looks pissed. For her part, Lori seems somewhat in disarray, but the look she gives him is purely professional and dares him to say anything.

Steve doesn't care to take that dare.

Going in, Five-0 is prepared for resistance from HPD, whether it's open in the form of words and actions or at the very least some stalling, but they don't encounter any of it. If anything, the officers are courteous, which puts Steve and the others on edge in the beginning, but they soon realize that it's because their HQ was burned down. Officers spend a lot of time in the station; it becomes like a second home. Seeing Five-0 is like seeing a family whose house has been destroyed. You don't taunt them; you give them all the help you can to catch the perp.

As it turns out, catching the perp this time is incredibly anticlimactic. She's still in the station because the officer questioning her- she'd come forward as a witness- had thought there was something off about her (Steve sends a small prayer of thanks to the Hawai'ian gods for Furukawa Daisuke's cop's intuition) and it only takes a few minutes in interrogation for her to come clean.

She'd set the fire with some help from some hired guys. No, she doesn't know their names or how to contact them. They'd all used burn phones, and she'd trashed hers- as in, melted it- as soon as she'd been sure that the fire would burn enough.

The reason she'd set it, however, proved to be somewhat difficult to swallow. She'd done because she'd cared greatly for Richard Kerring, and watching him on the news, shackled and desolate, had made her decide to take revenge on the people she felt were responsible- the taskforce and Steve in particular.

He's been called things before- he'd grown up with a sibling and served in a war not everyone had supported, had fought hand-to-hand with men and women who'd blamed him for their suffering and heard children screech at him as though he were a monster- and hearing the cruel words of people who don't appreciate what Five-0 does usually rolls off his back, but the vehemence of this woman- Karen Edgerton, thirty two, no kids, on and off worker at a childcare center- and her curses gets to him. They make him doubt himself.

Then he feels something take hold of his hand and looks down to find Danny holding his hand with his teeth, a look Steve isn't sure he's understanding correctly on the dog's face.

Someone calls him name, so Steve looks up and is suddenly faced with his team and no Karen.

"About this mysterious tip," Chin begins.

"Who gave it to you and why are you keeping the source to yourself?" Lori finishes.

Danny scoots closer, Steve's hand still caught in his delicate grip.

"It's not that I don't  _want_  to tell you," Steve tries, but quickly backpedals after catching the stern expressions on his teammates' faces. "You really wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try us."

Eyes narrowed- he's taking after Danny now, after only a couple of days- Steve decides to tell them.

"It was Danny."

"Danny?" Kono asks, breaking her previous silence.

"Yeah, Danny. He obviously smelled something on her, so after a bit of experimenting and trying to figure out what he was doing, I realized he was sniffing her so much because she'd smelled like HQ."

His team turns towards each other and quietly debates what he's shared, and when he starts to tense up, Danny applies more pressure to the hand in his mouth, which Steve probably should have taken back a while ago but finds Danny's snappish presence comforting.

Finally, the other three turn back.

"You're obviously keeping something to yourself," Lori starts, "but we decided to let it go."

Steve finds his head tilting without his permission, which he refuses to take as a symbol of his relationship with his team.

"You do realize that I'm in charge, right?"

"And you realize that without us, Five-0 will just have you in the field? Who'll work on tech and decoding, then? You'll have Max for autopsies, since he'd stay, and Fong when he isn't too busy with the rest of HPD's workload- unless he decides he agrees with us."

Steve hates being cornered, and right now, he's firmly wedged in the corner, so he does what he was taught to do. He opens his mouth and-

...nearly bites off his own tongue, he shuts it so quickly, because Danny, who'd noticed the change in Steve, had closed his jaws around the soft flesh of Steve's hand.

Lori startles at the rapid mood cycling, Chin's eyes flicker from Steve's face to his hand and Kono's face twists in disbelief.

"I've got something to do," Steve manages to grate out, "so I'm going to go do it and you guys can either take the night off or get started on your reports."

He then rushes away, hand still caught between Danny's unyielding jaws.

When they finally reach the truck, Danny lets go and shakes himself, but Steve waits until they're in the truck to turn to Danny.

"Damn it, was that really necessary?"

He gets one of Danny's usual flat looks in return.

"I wasn't going to say anything-"

Danny cuts him off by barking a few times.

"That's really mature, Danno."

As he reaches to start the engine, however, Steve notices that Danny hadn't actually broken the skin. The flesh is red and irritated and has a row of teeth-shaped marks, but there isn't a drop of blood outside his skin. It makes him go numb.

"Danny, I'm sorry. I-"

He doesn't get any further into the apology because Danny decides to nose at his ear, snuffling and grinning brightly.

"Okay, all right, you can stop now," Steve complains, but when Danny takes a few extra moments for extra nuzzles, he doesn't stop him.

The ride back home is quiet, Danny occupied with keeping his face in the wind as Steve sneaks glances at him out the corner of his eye and smiles.

* * *

Once inside, Danny seems to remember he hasn't eaten in too long and immediately sets to stepping on the backs of Steve's feet and whining, which Steve recognizes right away as a plea for food.

As he fixes dinner for them- kibble with leftover gravy for Danny and a chicken sandwich for him- he notices that Danny's left his side, which is a rare and concerning thing.

His plan to search for Danny is derailed by the dog himself, who is revealed to be sitting in one of the kitchen chairs, front paws on the table and a happy smile on his face.

Steve can't even be exasperated because he's too busy trying not to laugh at the way Danny's face fell at the lack of food in Steve's hands.

The disappointment doesn't last long, though, because it only takes Steve another few seconds to finish making his sandwich.

Once he realizes that the sandwich is for Steve and the bowl of kibble is for him, Danny's disappointment returns with heavy sigh, into which Steve refuses to give in.

...for almost five minutes, during which time Danny whimpers, shifts uncomfortably, moves his food around with his nose and makes pitiful faces at him.

A smile tugging at his lips, Steve rips off a piece of his sandwich and put it in front of Danny, only to jerk back when the dog eagerly tries to snap it up and nearly gets Steve's hand in the bargain.

It doesn't stop there, of course, because once Danny's had one bit of sandwich, his aim is to eat as much of it as possible, which is why Steve ends up eating less than half of his own dinner and has to make another sandwich- one that he steadfastly refuses to share, no matter the way Danny looks at him... except for one bite at the end.

The two then head to bed, Steve to his own bed and Danny to the smaller one Steve had bought for him.

* * *

Over the course of the following weeks, Danny becomes a regular part of Five-0. He chases and corners perps and people of interest, even flushes them out sometimes. After flying through K9 training- the instructors swear he must have had training some time in the past- he sniffs out drugs and people, leading the rest of the team- or just Steve, who makes him his partner- to stashes of whatever drug or groups of shuddering people.

At one point, Danny even takes down a would-be assassin, saving Governor Denning's life and earning a medal. Steve tries to keep it first in Five-0's rebuilt HQ, then on display in their house, but after Danny repeated knocks it over, the thing winds up hidden in one of the pockets in Steve's dress uniform.

Three months after the attempted assassination and four and a half after Danny joins the taskforce, he meets the other McGarrett: Mary Ann.

She arrives on a midnight flight and, in usual younger sibling fashion, drops in for a surprise visit, completely disregarding what time it is.

When she finally arrives on her former house's front steps, it's a little past one. Deciding that she won't deliberately wake Steve by ringing the door bell, she uses the key he'd given to her and is about to slip inside, somewhat surprised his paranoia hasn't compelled him to change the locks, when she hears something that explains the same lock: a terrier's throaty snarl.

The dog is running across the room, head down and teeth bared, appearing to be ready to go for her throat when she hears a familiar voice mutter a tired, "Danny, sit."

Almost immediately, the dog does as Steve asks, flopping to the floor with a thud that gives Mary sympathy pains from her thigh to her spine, though the terrier seems fine.

"So... you got a dog."

"And you came for a visit at midnight."

"One o'clock, actually. I thought sailors were supposed to be all punctual and stuff."

Steve, who had been approaching ever since he'd recognized the intruder as his sister rather than an actual intruder, smiled and put an arm over her shoulders.

"Welcome home, Mary," he says, ignoring the jibe, "even if it is  _after one o'clock in the morning_."

Mary beams at him, not bothered.

"Hey, I don't suppose my room's made up still, is it?" she asks, suddenly going quiet and losing her upbeat mood.

Ever the big brother, or at least making amends for their time apart, Steve smiles and tugs her closer.

"It is, actually. I thought if you visited or needed somewhere to stay, you could do that here..." he trails off, feeling self-conscious. He and Mary haven't had the easiest relationship, especially since both he and their father have sent her away, and he truly wants to have her in his life, but Mary tends not to react in a way he can easily foresee. She does what she feels and deals whatever follows. She may even take offense to his offer, thinking that he's saying she'll fail at her new job.

She doesn't take offense. Her entire face lights up and she pulls him into a hug, holding him as tightly as she can, and Steve holds her just as tightly.

"Thanks, Steve," she whispers through the tears that are suddenly falling.

"Hey, I hear that's what families are supposed to do."

Mary laughs, and even though it's watery and tearful, it gets a chuckle from Steve.

They're making their way to the couch, neither in the mood or set for the right time zone for sleep, when Mary realizes there's something she'd meant to ask earlier.

"Why do you have a dog?"

Steve pauses for a moment, thinking, then shakes his head and resumes half-carrying his sister to the couch.

"It's kind of a long story."

"You do realize that it's Saturday and neither of us is getting any sleep, right?"

* * *

Steve wakes at his usual time, but what wakes him isn't his internal clock or even the sun filtering through the blinds. What wakes him is Danny, on whose chest Steve had wound up falling asleep, licking his head, which tickles only slightly less than it disgusts him.

"Danny," he mumbles, "knock it off..."

Instead, the dog wraps his forelegs around the top of Steve's head and falls back to sleep, and Steve doesn't have the heart to wake him.

Somewhere between five and six hours later, Mary comes in to see about lunch and finds Steve still caught in Danny's grip.

"Aw, look at you guys. You're adorable, especially you, Danny."

Steve glowers at her, but he doesn't make a move to get up. On the other hand, Danny, who'd woken up when Mary'd opened the door, grins sleepily and makes a small, happy noise.

"Man, I wish you'd told me earlier you'd gotten a dog. He's so cool. It's like he knows what I'm saying."

The words make Steve stiffen up- edited documents involving the government never means anything good, which is why he's kept quiet about Danny- but the dog himself just stretches, his hind paws knocking into Steve's back, and lets his tongue loll forward... which is followed by another round of him licking Steve's head and Mary Ann laughing so hard she has to lean against the wall to stay upright.

Once she's caught her breath and Steve has convinced Danny to stop licking him (He shoves Danny onto his own side of the bed, which is something Steve has long since added to the list of things he is Not Contemplating) Steve gets up and promises to put some fish on the grill for lunch- right after he heads to the bathroom and feeds Danny, which Mary graciously volunteers to do.

Five minutes later, Steve enters the kitchen, grabs the fish and heads outside, where he finds Mary Ann dozing in a chair, Danny at her feet.

Steve smiles at his little family and gets the grill ready.

By the time the fish is done, Steve isn't smiling anymore. Danny still hasn't left Mary's side, not even to beg for scraps or just sniff at the grill hopefully. It's lonely, standing by the flames and not having anyone to keep him company while Mary, who's fast asleep, and Danny, who definitely isn't, lie around. Steve had seen the interest on Danny's face the night before, but being deserted so quickly still hurts.

Nevertheless, he brings the fish to where Mary's sitting- and had set up the tiny portable table and another chair- and flops down beside her, even offers a piece of his piece to Danny, who'd perked up the moment food had come near. Admittedly, it's an action born of habit and is accompanied by a muttered, "Traitor," which Mary definitely hears, if her sudden snort is anything by which to judge.

More upset than he'd like to think, Steve casts dark looks at Danny during the rest of the meal, much to Mary Ann's obvious amusement. Even after Mary and Steve have finished, Steve continues shooting unhappy looks at his traitorous partner- covertly, of course, not that it's been making much of a difference to his sister.

Steve is still glowering at Danny when the dog yawns, stretches and makes his way to Steve. Completely ignoring Steve's protests and heavy scowl, Danny proceeds to put his front paws on the between Steve's legs, then scramble the rest of the way onto Steve's lap, where he sighs heavily and makes himself at home.

Not even trying to hide her glee at this stage, Mary bursts into laughter which only gets louder at the scandalized expression her brother shoots her.

Before Steve can think of proper retaliation, Mary's phone goes off, the Navy's anthem pouring out in mechanical tones. He raises an eyebrow but stops himself from commenting.

"You used to sing it in the shower," she explains, sardonic. "I missed it... sort of."

She hushes him, then, and takes the call, to which Steve listens but doesn't go out of his way to process. Between being well-fed and having the warm weight of Danny asleep on his lap- which may actually be uncomfortable, but the dog looks too comfortable and happy to dislodge- he's just content enough to let her have this much privacy.

When Mary shuts the phone, though, his attention is immediately on her.

"That was my boss- duty calls," she says, one side of her lips twitching.

"Already? But you just got here."

Mary shrugs, but she looks just as disappointed as her brother.

"It happens a lot."

They fall into silence for a moment, which Mary breaks, as is her job as younger sister.

"Look, I, uh, I've got to go right now, but..."

"But?" Steve shouldn't be so hopeful. Once you've had something good, though, it sticks with you, and time with his sister is surprisingly good.

"Well, I was thinking... if you wouldn't mind... Maybe we could do this again?"

"Yeah, we can. We should." He'd be more articulate if he weren't smiling so hard.

"Right. Okay. Um... I guess I should go, then..."

"I'll drive you. Just give me a minute with Danno-"

"No, that's all right," Mary cuts in, her own huge smile stretching her lips. "He's comfortable, and I have a feeling you two don't get as much sleep as you should."

"At least give me a hug?" Steve asks, extending his arms.

"Of course, big bro."

They hug for not quite long enough, but Mary pulls away, needing to hurry to catch her flight.

"How are you getting there?" Steve calls at her back, remembering he hadn't heard her call a cab.

"A friend's picking me up!" Mary returns, jogging backwards for a little while and waving.

She's disappeared into the house, undoubtedly hurriedly packing, when Steve hears a car horn and Mary's answering shout.

Danny doesn't stir, so Steve doesn't move, just listens to the waves and his sister's occasional shout for patience.

Eventually Mary's sounds disappear completely, followed by a car's engine roaring and wheels screeching.

A few minutes pass and Steve is dozing, when a text comes in. Steve has to dig through his pockets to find it, nearly dislodging a deeply slumbering Danny a few times, but he does manage to extract the device. Once open, Steve finds a single line of text:  _I'll be back._

He smiles a little and texts back:  _I wouldn't miss it, Terminator._

* * *

Two days after Mary Ann's visit, a car pulls into Steve's driveway and comes to an easy stop. It takes Steve a few moments to realize that he recognizes the car and only another two for him to jog outside to greet the driver.

Cath has barely stepped out of her car when Steve arrives at her side, glancing appreciatively at the close-fitting red dress he's going to be throwing to the floor as soon as he gets her inside. He beams at her, and she beams back, even as they half trip over themselves in their eagerness to get things inside, a thought that occurs to them at the same time and makes both take a moment to laugh at the unintentional innuendo... not that it isn't true.

Deciding to hurry things along and not caring about what the neighbors do or don't see, Steve scoops Cath into his arms and carries her, "Like a woman, McGarrett, not someone you've kidnapped because you're an ogre. Don't think you can just carry me over your shoulder; I'll break you."

Once indoors, and avoiding distracting innuendo, Steve backs Cath against the door, getting as close as he possibly can as his lips move up her neck to her cheek and across the soft skin of her face to her lips. Smiling into the kiss, his hands find the hem of her dress and pulls it up a few inches. He gets even closer, then, as close as he can possibly get while they're dressed, and both decide that it's been too long to bother with foreplay. They want to get undressed and on to the main show, but still Steve dawdles, trying to draw things out before they even get started.

"Steve," Cath murmurs, "if you don't get going right now, you aren't going to be happy later."

"I won't?" comes his low response. "Why's that?"

Cath is about to reply when he rips her dress over her head and wraps his hands around her thighs, smiling smugly.

Usually Cath would tease him about the look, but he knows that she's known him long enough to know that teasing only makes things take longer, which is the opposite of what she wants. Instead of saying anything about his face, she stays quiet and grabs his head, pulling him in for a few rough kisses.

Finished teasing her, Steve slides his hands from the place they'd taken on her thighs down until they're close enough to her knees for him to grab the the backs of them and haul Cath up so her legs can wrap around his torso as he makes his way through the house backwards by memory alone.

"Table on the starboard side, sailor," Cath warns, taking pity on him after his hip collides with a wall, laughter coloring her tone.

Steve simply grunts and dodges the obstacle, reattaching his lips to her jaw and kissing closer and closer to her lips, slowing as he goes and smiling when she makes a noise of protest.

As they make their way up the stairs to the bedroom- Steve still going backwards and doing his level best not to need Cath's warnings- she sets to stripping him, since she's only in panties and a bra (and she knows that for a guy, his nipples are sensitive enough to mess with him, which is half the fun of having sex with him: watching him go from cold to, if she's lucky, a whimpering mess).

She's just managed to free him from the polo, despite his decision to distract her by leaving just a peck on her lips and dipping his head between her breasts, when Steve bangs into the bedroom door.

Taking advantage of his temporarily stunned state, Cath climbs closer and presses her lips to his, slowly pulling back and nipping occasionally to avoid the trap of falling into slow sex- a trap Steve has perfected over the course of their relationship- and a little bit so she can throw him off once he's shaken off the stunned feeling of getting hit in the back by the doorknob.

Fully absorbed in each other as Steve manages to open his bedroom door and back into the room, they take a few moments to notice they've got company- or, more accurately, that they _are_ company.

Expression unreadable, Danny's sitting on the foot of the bed, studying them with his head cocked to one side.

The appearance of a pit bull, which Cath had definitely not been told Steve had gotten, completely obliterates her libido the way very few things can.

"Steve?" she asks.

"Damn it, Danny," he calls, looking over his shoulder, "I thought you were outside." The dog stays where he is on the bed, eyes narrowing as he sniffs the air. "Out!"

The look Danny gives them as he slinks away is deeply wounded.

"I'm sorry about that," Steve says, soft and too warm against the skin of Cath's neck. "I really didn't know he was in here."

"Steve, we-"

"Have other things to do, right."

"No, we're stopping."

"Yeah, we're-" Steve's brain, somewhat on the backburner, finally catches up. "What are you talking about, Cath?"

Taking a breath, Cath begins with a fairly innocuous point.

"You got a dog."

Steve nods.

"Yeah, there was a case that-"

"And you didn't tell me."

"I didn't think it was a big deal. He's a dog, Cath. You like dogs."

Cath shakes her head.

"I do like dogs, Steve, but that? That wasn't a dog. That was an animal made to kill."

Steve's forehead wrinkles, and he slowly lets Cath slide back to the floor.

"Cath, Danny would never-"

"A name doesn't change the fact that pit bulls are killers, Steve."

"They really aren't, though, Cath. I researched the subject, and for as many pit bull accidents-"

"Accidents, Steve? What about mauling a child to death? Is that an accident?" She pushes on before Steve can get a chance to interrupt. "No, it isn't! They're killers, Steve, through and through."

Steve shakes his head.

"They aren't, though. The number of times pit bulls have attacked kids, or other people or animals, is incredibly low, especially for-"

"But they do happen!" she shouts, and just as her temper is cracklinging, Steve can feel his temper snap, too. "Whatever your numbers might say, Steve, pit bulls kill Why do you think they use them in dog fights, rather than retrievers or other _good_ dogs?"

Logically, Steve knows that he should stop the argument now, maybe suggest time apart to think this through or at least not talk right after the surprise of finding Danny, but Steve, for all the commendations he's received because of his steadfast reign over his temper during ops, has never been good at being cold in his personal life. Danny is a part of his family, and no matter the feelings he has for Cath- and he does have them, has ones that go a bit deeper than he'd like to think- hearing Danny called a killer is enough to push him past the point of logic.

He stares at her coldly for a moment, then folds his arms.

"I think you should leave."

Cath blinks at him.

"You- You what?"

"Think you should leave. Danny's a part of my family, Cath. The team likes him, and so does Mary. He's probably gotten almost as many commendations as I have for valor and _being good_ , so if you don't want to be around him, then this isn't going to work out."

He hates that he's saying this, but he and Cath are people with flaws and flawed kinds of love. Danny, on the other hand, is a dog, and all he does, really, is love Steve. He's never sneaked out in the middle of the night because things are getting too close. All he wants- not expects, wants- in return, is love from Steve (and food and space on the bed and, actually, quite a bit more, but it's nothing Steve would even blink at the thought of giving).

A small part of him asks if he realizes that choosing a dog over a relationship with a human won't end in anything but loneliness. Steve shoves that to the back of his mind in favor of thinking about all the times Danny has had his back, of the way Steve can kick a door in and charge into a drug den and know that, no matter how angry Danny gets, he'll be right on Steve's heels, if not tearing past him.

Cath studies him for a little while, just looking at his face, then appears to come to a conclusion.

"I don't feel comfortable around pit bulls, and I don't think I ever will. They're too easily provoked." When Steve opens his mouth to protest, Cath holds up a hand. "I can see that you care about the dog, though, Steve, which is why I'm just going to leave. No more arguing, no more taking sides."

She turns to go, but after only a few steps, turns back.

"I don't suppose you'd mind walking me to my car?" she asks. "I have to find my dress, but-"

Steve smiles sadly.

"I don't mind. Let's find that dress."

* * *

The soft whirl of Cath's engine accompanies the first swig Steve takes form his beer. It's going to be a night of self-pity, which he normally doesn't allow himself, but this is the end of the closest thing he's had to a real relationship since joining the Navy and it hurts to know it's over.

Half an hour has passed and Steve is still nursing his first beer's empty bottle when he notices the distinct lack of Danny near him.

A frantic search- of course he'd heard the argument and of course Danny'd feel guilty- reveals Danny's location: the beach, his head hanging nearly to his paws- which are in the water, and that tells Steve how bad the dog is feeling, because Danny doesn't go near water unless he's drinking it.

"Danno," Steve calls, "I've been looking for you!"

If anything, Danny manages to slump even further.

"Danny, come on." When he doesn't get a response, Steve drops into the somewhat dry sand a few inches behind Danny and pulls him to his chest. That Danny doesn't even make a small noise of complaint or wriggle to get free makes Steve's gut clench.

"Hey, Danno, I'm not mad. You know that, right?"

The lack of response is starting to unnerve him.

"Danno? You there?"

Slowly, the dog nods, and Steve's heartbeat leaves the triple digits. He wraps both arms around the chilled dog and slowly rubs his hands along Danny's stiff body.

"How about a bath, huh? We'll get clean and go to sleep in the big bed."

The look Danny shoots him says, "I'm already clean, thanks, and I'd rather be out here." It's a complicated look, but it's one he gives Steve a lot.

"Come on, please?"

Danny turns his head and looks at the ocean. He doesn't move or make any noises, though, so Steve is at a loss about how to proceed.

He gets lucky, though, because Danny does manage to start moving again. There's guilt written all over his face as suddenly turns to Steve and starts licking his face, tongue rough and wet on Steve's cheek.

"You don't have to apologize; it wasn't your fault."

Danny's expression says otherwise. Steve sighs in the face of his stubbornness.

"If this is an apology, I accept."

Steve gets a small, almost happy yap in return, but Danny doesn't stop licking him.

Maybe it's the salt trailing down Steve's face, or maybe it's Danny's way of saying that he's still there and isn't planning to go anywhere.

* * *

Weeks pass and Five-0 finds itself in the middle of a kidnapping/drug trafficking case, which has Steve and the others working eighteen hour shifts- formally, but no one's going home or sleeping, not when kids are getting taken- when Steve's contact on the mainland finally returns his call.

"McGarrett," Steve answers, head on his desk as he tries to escape the dread of what may follow. Danny's asleep on the couch in his office, so it's just Steve who'll have to deal with whatever it is that HPD or Denning is about to throw at him.

Instead, another familiar voice answers him.

"Mr. McGarrett, this is Harold."

Steve immediately perks up.

"Finch? It's been months. I thought you'd left or something."

"No, no, I've been here in New York. I've found someone who can help me with the numbers, and there was... a bit of trouble." The man coughs, then attempts to continue, but Steve cuts him off.

"The numbers? You found someone who could help you, then- one of the ones I suggested?"

A faint chuckle comes across the line, accompanied by the sound of a soft-spoken man asking something.

"I did find someone I could trust among them: John Reese, if you recall him." This time, the soft-spoken man is closer and obviously trying to find out what Finch is doing, a task that Steve knows to be much more difficult than it would appear.

Steve smiles for the first time in what feels like years.

"I do remember him. You'll tell him hello for me?"

"Of course."

A hand covers the receiver, but Steve can hear muffled voices, both of which are familiar now that he thinks about it.

The first, Harold's, fluctuates between quiet, almost subservient to as sharp with something- frustration, most likely, if he's trying to convince John of something. Steve had first met him during an assignment after September Eleventh; formally, it had been to meet another man, Nathan Ingram, but Steve had seen through the other men's facade and recognized that Finch had been the man behind the program on which the Navy wanted more information. Steve had immediately taken to both and retained contact with them, Finch in particular due to his uncanny ability to search out otherwise unattainable information- and his reticence about it once he's gotten it. Steve had been serving at the time of Nathan's death and Harold's loss of mobility, but he'd called as soon as he could and, when requested, sent Finch the names of all the men and women with whom he'd served and thought might possibly do well as Finch's body.

It's the other man's voice, however, that brings back the most memories. John Reese- definitely an alias- had been serving as a member of the United States Special Forces during the Afghanistan War and been involved in a joint mission between the Green Berets and the SEALs. Though older than Steve, the quiet man had been willing to work with him, had even strengthened Steve's hand-to-hand skills, as well as passed on a fair amount of what he knew about unconventional warfare. The two had spent a lot of time together and grown close during the multiple ops during which they'd served together. John had told Steve about the woman he'd loved and had to leave behind, and Steve had told John about his mess of a love life, even entrusted him with knowledge of Steve's somewhat confused sexuality, none of which had ever been held against him. In ops, John expected Steve to be there when he needed to be, and Steve could rely on John to do the same.

Steve suddenly recalls a night when, high off the success of a mission, a bunch of the guys, including John and Steve, had gone out for drinks. Through the course of the night, it had become known that one of the men had the same types of sexual tendencies as Steve: mainly straight but, if the person were right, had nothing against being gay. John, who hadn't known that Steve leaned the same way, had been in the bathroom, so other than Steve, who hadn't wanted to draw attention to himself, there hadn't been anyone to help the other man. It's always weighed on Steve that he hadn't immediately leaped to the defense of the other man- who'd been from a different team.

Then John had come back and, after hearing what had happened, drunk the last of his beer, paid the tab and followed Steve outside. The cold rage on his face, the most controlled fury Steve had ever seen, still haunts him, as does the contempt on John's face when, after grabbing one of the men beating their comrade's arm, he'd instilled a beating of his own against their previous comrades and with only Steve and the then-unconscious man on his side.

Later that night, Steve had told John that he and the man whose life they'd saved- barely- were the same, but only after John had fully castigated him for not stepping up sooner.

Wanting to be in the present, Steve shakes his head just in time to hear John's familiar voice call his name.

"Been a while, huh, Reese?"

"Quite a while, McGarrett. Harold here tells me you're back home in Hawai'i working with the police."

"Something like that."

"He also says that taking the phone from him is in no way cute, Mr. Reese," comes Harold's clipped voice, which only earns him two soldiers' muffled guffaws. "What I have to tell you is incredibly delicate information, Steve," he continues, only slightly put off.

Steve's demeanor changes immediately.

"Delicate? So you did find something about Danny?"

"I did. In fact, I found out far more than I would have liked, but I will share only what is pertinent."

"And who decides what's pertinent?" Steve asks, wary of the direction their conversation could take.

"I do," comes Finch's short reply. "I'm not going to hide anything from you, Steve. There are just things that I have learned that I would not like to repeat, particularly if they aren't necessary, which, in this case, they are not."

Steve rubs a hand over his forehead, feeling a headache forming. He knows that Finch wouldn't hold back on anything useful, but years of only getting fed half-truths and not questioning authority has caused Steve's teeth to grate when he hears about "pertinent information."

"You do still want it, don't you?" Harold asks, and Steve finally catches on to his miserable tone of voice.

"I do want it, yeah."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Mea Huna (huna): secret  
> It's not very original, but I'm a little tuckered out.
> 
> Now, to choose an ending:  
> Chapter 2 for Dog!Danny Ending  
> Chapters 2-3 for Man!Danny Ending


	2. Ending One: Holoholona (Dog)

_"Very well, then. Don't interrupt me, because if you stop me, I will not begin again."_ Taking a breath, Finch plunges forward. _"Daniel Williams, known to his family and friends as Danny, was thirty years old and had been a member of the NJPD for a number of years when he volunteered to be part of their K9 unit and was partnered with an unnamed pit bull of undefined age. The two went through the training together and became the foremost pair in North Jersey and New York City._

_"At some point, the two were invited to take part in a government program pitched to them as a way to help scientists better understand K9 pairs, why some partnerships work so well and other don't, if certain breeds- which pit bulls are not- make better police dogs because of their brains rather than just disposition and relative intelligence._

_"This was a lie- or at least, not the whole truth. The information regarding what exactly happened is far from uniform or trustworthy, but from what can be gathered, the subjects- Williams and his partner, as well as nine other pairs- were put through some type of therapy- for the humans- and hypnotic states- both humans and dogs. What went on during their sessions, I cannot tell you, but I can say that it was with the aim of altering their mental states, of blurring the lines between man and beast._

_"During this stage, six people had to be hospitalized. Williams wasn't one of them, and he and the three other pairs went on to the next stage."_

Harold interrupts himself with a hacking cough, and Steve hears the man arguing with someone, undoubtedly Reese, about physical health being relative and would you go clean your weapons, or at least stop hovering, Mr. Reese?

 _"Excuse me,"_ comes Harold's voice, which has gone hoarse.

_"The, ah, second stage was not put in any official reports and had to be found manually. Essentially, the remaining subjects had some sort of brain shocks, which, though not fatal or particularly painful, seemed to have gotten exciting results._

_"For some reason, the third stage- which may or may not have been the final stage- was cancelled and all test subjects released."_

Steve waits for a few moments, and when Finch doesn't say anything further, he jumps in with two feet.

"Released, so I could talk to him, Daniel Williams? What about the other participants?"

The reply comes not from Finch- whom Steve can hear retching in the background- but John.

_"Dead, all of them."_

"How? They all died and no one-"

_"In accidents, Steve- for the most part. One man committed suicide, but the others, including Williams, died on the job. We didn't track the others as hard, but Daniel Williams was murdered in a firefight inside a school."_

Steve's world implodes, and he isn't sure what to do about it.

_"Listen, Steve. You can't go after the people involved in this. It's over; Finch and I checked and double checked. There's no trace of anyone who conducted the research, only their notes, which were hidden deeper than most of the ops we ran."_

"What about Danny?" Steve asks, throat raw.

 _"Danny has you now,"_ comes the frank reply, _"and you can't get distracted by what happened back here. You won't do Danny or yourself any favors."_

"But-"

_"No, Steve. There are things you can do, and there are things you can't. You can't help Williams or any of the others by coming back here and doing whatever it is you're thinking of doing. What you can do is focus on the case you have now and staying safe. You think getting yourself killed will help the dog?"_

Steve shakes his head, numb.

"It won't, but I have to-"

_"Dig up a man's grave? You think that reopening the grave of a man who died a hero will do you or the dog any good?"_

All three are silent for a time. Then Finch speaks.

_"I think we ought to get some rest."_

The other men agree, and Steve is about to hang up when Finch catches his attention.

_"Oh, and, Steve?"_

"Yes, Harold?"

_"Ignore the island politics; they're irrelevant. It's the cartels who have information you need."_

* * *

As usual, Finch is right. After "arresting" some of the muscle from various local drug trafficking syndicates on bogus charges, it had soon become apparent that they'd known more than Five-0 had originally thought- whether about this case or others, as well as information on what rival cartels had been doing. All the taskforce had needed to do was leave the men in the same room and wait for the fireworks to go off. It had only taken a few minutes for the men to start laying into each other and a bit of waiting to see who'd tried his best not to get involved, then they'd had their guy.

Convincing the Vietnamese- a smaller cartel that had tended not to get a lot of press in the past, but a powerful one nonetheless- to tell them about a shipment of heroin they'd been bringing from the Middle East and the family on Hawai'i they'd been using to import drugs previously, had taken much longer, but through a few stunts that had gotten Danny's hackles up, Steve and the rest of Five-0 had managed to get to the missing family before anything worse than seasickness could get to them, as well as prevent the distribution of the heroin.

The team had gone out to celebrate at one of the popular tourist traps, preferring to spend the evening drinking neon drinks and convincing people to give- or buy- Danny food.

By the time the cab drops them off, Steve is well on his way to being too drunk to walk properly and Danny won't stop belching and sighing.

Steve miraculously makes it up the stairs to his room, Danny stumbling along behind him, and even finds a way under the sheets where he curls up and vaguely wishes he'd thought to grab some Tylenol before getting in. Danny joins him as he's taken to doing- stretching out half on Steve, half off- and idly scratches an ear with one of his hindpaws.

"Hey, Danno?" Steve mumbles, curling around his pet. "Do you miss Williams?"

Immediately tensed, Danny watches him carefully, expression dark.

Steve doesn't take notice of his companion's discomfort.

"'Cause I'd miss him... you were prob'ly close."

Heaving a sigh, Danny wriggles away.

"Bet he misses you, too," Steve slurs, trying to find Danny where the dog had been moments earlier. "I... miss... you already." Danny watches Steve fumble for a little longer, face light again, then makes the decision to haul himself onto the bed again and puts his nose by Steve's ear.

Suddenly turning serious, Steve pulls Danny closer.

"Don't go, Danny," he murmurs into the side of Danny's head, "not you, too..."

Nosing along Steve's neck, Danny shakes his head and settles in for a long nap.

* * *

When he wakes the following morning, Steve has a wicked hangover and the feeling he did something important. He just can't remember if it's something important to him while he'd been intoxicated, or if it's something important in the long run.

He's pulled from his somewhat haphazard thoughts by a sharp pain in his gut. Danny, who's just woken up, is wriggling about, kicking and shoving Steve, in his haste to get up and make a run for the door.

Steve figures Danny's got the right idea and puts thoughts of the night before from his mind. He's got more important things to do now, like not tripping over Danny as both dash as quickly as they can, neither wanting to be responsible for a mess on the floor.

* * *

Five-0's next case threatens to ruin the delicate balance Steve has between bereaved son and professional law enforcer.

It begins with a call from Chin saying that Steve and Danny need to get to a small, private practice run by a psychiatrist who's being held at gunpoint by one of his patients: a former Marine named Ken Zhu who, according to his file, has been diagnosed with PTSD and paranoid schizophrenia, a combination that has, of late, led to full psychosis. According to Zhu, someone's been following his family ever since he'd started seeing the psychiatrist, and his demands are to know why and have them stopped.

Steve can't help but draw parallels between Ken and Graham Wilson, an ex-Navy SEAL whose own PTSD had made investigating his wife's murder far more difficult.

Unlike Graham, however, Ken shows no desire to cooperate, let alone let the psychiatrist go. After nearly an hour of Lori and HPD's officer who deals with negotiations trying to talk Zhu down, the man tells them he has no more desire to talk. He changes his demands to one thing: fifteen minutes.

It takes thirteen for Steve and Kono to set up the sniper rifle in an apartment next door and get a good shot.

Kono volunteers to take the shot, even reaches to grab it, but Steve shakes his head and gently grabs her hand.

"Go check on Chin," he says, quiet and even, as though he isn't waiting for the fifteen minutes to pass and the innocent man mere yards away to be killed. His voice is soft as though he isn't about to take the life of a hero, not some scumbag selling coke to kids. "Now, Kono."

In the face of her boss' trembling body- she sees him shaking, can tell that he's trying to hide it- Kono nods, but she doesn't run from the room. She calmly strides to the door and opens it, letting a blur of red-gold fly past.

Then, and only then, does she allow herself to leave.

Steve, having turned away and begun training the target on Zhu's head, doesn't realize that Kono hadn't left him alone until he's making his final adjustments. A warm body settles beside him and a heavy head comes to rest on his leg.

Blue eyes large and knowing, Danny gives Steve a long look, then closes his eyes and lets out a breath.

No one radios to tell him the former Marine's mind has changed and Steve can see bruises forming on the psychiatrist's face he knows must have come from being whipped by the soldier's gun, so takes a breath to steady himself, then pulls the trigger.

Glass shatters and people below shout in fright, but beside him, Danny is quiet and still, his eyes half-lidded in sorrow. The dog doesn't make any noise beyond his soft breathing and doesn't go for Steve's phone, so the man stays crouched, too, looking at the opposite building.

Chin gets them close to half an hour later. He doesn't break the silence, either, just steps into the room and slowly unwraps Steve's hands from the rifle, slowly disassembling it and packing it away to be cleaned later, some time when there's a high or no one wants to do paperwork. The idea of cleaning a murder weapon- one used to take the life of one of America's finest, at that- is a dirty feeling, and he leaves it alone.

When Steve doesn't rise on his own, Chin carefully wraps an arm around his friend- not his leader, not his comrade, not now- and gently pulls him to his feet.

Steve sways, but he doesn't fall.

Chin keeps hold of him anyway as they shuffle from the building, Danny still tucked against Steve's leg- a mute sentinel guarding someone he loves.

* * *

There's no celebration after this case. Chin and Kono go home together, neither wanting to face an empty house alone; Lori heads to a hotel with the intentions of getting drunk and finding someone to help her sleep, except she can't face the crowds, so she goes to the room she'd rented earlier and drinks too much from the minibar.

Steve drives home on autopilot, and Danny lets him. Steve skips the beer in the fridge for a bottle of whiskey, and Danny watches him from across the room, silently letting Steve do what he has to do.

Too much whiskey later, Steve drags himself from the sprawl he'd adopted on the couch. He leans forward, tucking his head between his legs, and fights the urge to vomit. His head is filled with blood splattering like in movies, of the sight of brain through open skin and broken bone.

He does what he always does when he's low. He pulls a revolver from its place beneath a cushion and contemplates it. He watches the light play across the gunmetal and thinks about the single bullet in the chamber, and he wonders about how different he'd look from Ken Zhu.

They'd both be dead, though, and doesn't everyone look the same in death?

Killing people, no matter what books and movies try to say- no matter what therapists and people who've never taken a life say- doesn't get easier with time; it gets harder. Each person, whether Steve pulled the trigger or no, has a foot on his soul, and the more people he kills, the heavier the weight on him. He can't get rid of the feet- wouldn't if he could- and there's no one he can sentence with part of his burden, so Steve knows, has known for a long time, that his soul will be shattered and all he can do is wait.

There is, however, someone he's forgotten.

Danny pads to him, claws clicking on the floor as he goes.

Steve doesn't object when Danny nudges himself between his legs and puts his head on Steve's thigh, and he doesn't object when Danny slowly worms his way onto his lap and stretches out, his belly round and long against Steve's as his weight eases Steve onto his back. Steve doesn't break their silence when Danny, his gaze locked with Steve's, reaches a paw out and knocks the gun aside, and he doesn't dare speak when Danny scoots up his chest until their noses bump.

The silence is broken the moment Danny, eyes again holding Steve's, licks the man's cheek from jaw to temple. In that moment, Steve makes a tiny sound of desperation, of the feet on his soul stepping on him, but Danny doesn't leave him. Instead, he moves up further and licks Steve's hands, even as the man tries to cover his face with them.

No matter what Steve's voice decides to say, Danny doesn't leave him. The warmth and welcome heaviness on Steve's chest doesn't go away, but as the night falls and passes, the impossible weight of guilt he's been carrying is slowly, painstakingly replaced by the soft, ticklishness of a wet nose and a long, rough tongue.

Covered by something heavier than guilt, the weight of Danny's unconditional love, Steve falls into a deep, restful sleep, with Danny not far behind.


	3. Ending Two: Kanaka (Man)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behold! Chapter three has appeared! Sorry for not posting when I said I would! Life pulled some crazy stunts, so I wound up not being able to finish it right. But hey, I have a (much longer than intended) ending for you! And Max!
> 
> Please note that this chapter is, in fact, E in rating for awkward smut and graphic depictions of violence. Also, the tags have been modified to reflect these and other changes.
> 
> I'm sorry if Danny's voice is as off as Steve's, but every time I go for him, the way I talk comes out, which is even wordier than his actual speech pattern.

A week and a half after the case with the ex-Marine, Steve gets a second call from New York.

"McGarrett."

 _"Steve, there may have been a problem,"_ comes Harold's rushed voice.

"What kind of problem?" Steve asks, eyes narrowed. He hasn't been sleeping well lately; the only times he can get any rest at all are the small snatches of time he can convince Danny it isn't too hot to share space. There's been a heat wave in Hawai'i, though, which means that Steve's bed is definitely too hot a place for cuddling. Danny's been withdrawn, too, almost sullen, and nothing Steve has done has gotten even a hint of a smile from him.

_"The kind of problem in which Mr. Reese and I found information that had been left expressly for people like us to find."_

Steve closes his eyes. This is exactly the kind of problem he hadn't wanted.

"Do you have anything, then- anything at all?"

When he responds, the recluse sounds resigned.

_"Yes, we do. After realizing the... grave misrepresentation of the facts, Mr. Reese and I felt it best for him to take over the investigation, which has yielded... other truths."_

"Like?"

_"Perhaps a run down of events would be best- if you have the time?"_

Ten days of desk- and paperwork means that Steve does, in fact, have the time.

"Go ahead."

Harold doesn't stand on ceremony or dawdle- a trait Steve has always valued.

_"Daniel Williams, known to his family and friends as Danny, was thirty years old and had been a member of the NJPD for a number of years when, after multiple years of undercover work to gather evidence against one of New Jersey's most powerful gangs, he disappeared._

_"At first, Mr. Reese and I felt that his disappearance was most likely a form of avant-garde witness protection, but after spending a few weeks checking out his handler and every one else in his precinct, we came to the conclusion that his disappearance was not faked. No one in the entire police department who'd ever even heard of him had any idea of his location._

_"Following this, we turned our attention to his friends and family, but there was no evidence of them knowing what had happened to the man, either._

_"Somewhat desperate for information, we felt that we could glean something from the gang Williams had been about bring to light, so Mr. Reese went undercover. And that's when we found something._ "

Harold interrupts himself with a hacking cough, and Steve hears the man arguing with someone, undoubtedly John, about physical health being relative and would you go clean your weapons, or at least stop hovering, Mr. Reese?

 _"Excuse me,"_ comes Harold's voice, which has gone hoarse.

_"Where was I...? Yes, there was Mr. Reese in a gang." Finch's sardonic tone says more than enough to communicate his displeasure._

_"To be honest, it wasn't much, and if we hadn't been coming to dead end after dead end, we- yes, we, Mr. Reese- most likely would have dismissed it out of hand. This particular gang's symbol is a baby drinking milk from a wolf?"_

Finch pauses.

_"Are you familiar with the tale of Romulus and Remus?"_

Steve blinks, thrown by the nonsequitor, but as Finch's tone had told him not to interrupt, he's saved from having to come up with an answer.

_"The two boys are thrown by their uncle into a river but are saved by a wolf who gives them milk and keeps them alive until a shepherd finds them. They later become well known for their abilities to fight and lead. As adults, they found a city, but become involved quarrel. As it's called Rome, you would be correct in guessing that it was Romulus who won, though he killed his brother to do so._

_"As the mythology goes, Romulus was a great leader, except one day, he disappeared without a trace. What happened after that is somewhat murky, but the most often used explanation is that he went off to become the Roman god Quirinius._

_"Now, I realize that I have been somewhat roundabout in this-"_ Steve hears a small snort, followed by a soft apology, _"- but are you aware of the... trend in mythology, not just Classical- that is, Greek and Roman- but in most, if not all, that someone who drinks either blood or unusual animal's milk or some other such substance is often granted some sort of superhuman ability?_

_"I looked through some lessen-known theories about what happened to Romulus, as well as what happened between the wolf giving Remus and him milk and-"_

The phone is suddenly pulled from Finch's grasp, the sounds of a familiar chuckle and the rich man's voice sharpening enough that Steve can clearly hear him demanding that John stop holding the phone over his head, because they are _not_ five years old.

Instead, John keeps the phone to himself.

 _"What Harold is saying,"_ he says in place of a greeting, _"is that there's more than a gang going on here."_

"And how do you think this has any relation to Danny- and Daniel?"

More noises come across the line, and Harold's voice appears in his ear.

_"One of the suggestions of Romulus' fate is that he turned into a dog and left Rome to search for his brother's soul."_

Steve peels his phone from his face and looks at it critically, as though it's the reason he's just heard one of the most pragmatic men he's ever met say that he thinks Daniel Williams turned into a dog.

 _"What happened to delicate, Finch?"_ he hears John ask.

 _"Delicate isn't always the best approach. I thought you'd appreciate that,"_ comes Finch's tart reply.

_"I would've appreciated it more if you'd warned me."_

Steve cuts in, having a feeling he knows exactly where this conversation will go if he leaves it alone.

"You think Daniel Williams is Danny?" That doesn't sound right, exactly. "No, you're saying that Daniel Williams is part of, what, a cult from Ancient Rome? You think he can _turn into a dog?"_

The line goes silent.

 _"When you put it that way,"_ Finch begins, but Reese cuts him off.

_"That's exactly what he's saying."_

"Are you two fighting or- No, don't tell me." Steve scrubs a hand over his face. "I can't believe I'm going to say this, but tell me more about this Roman theory."

The rest of the conversation goes both exactly the way Steve had thought it would- to an incomprehensible level of hell- and the way he hadn't- back to language someone who hadn't spent a long time studying Classical mythology would understand.

What he hadn't expected is the suddenly overwhelming urge to talk to Danny.

* * *

He had to wait until the work day had ended because Kono had brought the pit bull to the beach- something Danny doesn't like but will tolerate, so long as he has something to do or someone to keep him company- to do some recon for one of HPD's domestic cases and both dog and woman had been asleep standing up by the time they'd gotten back.

Water in hand, Steve walks back to the couch where Danny has settled himself in his usual, nearly-on-top-of-Steve spot. Usually Steve would tease him about it, but he's missed Danny and his constant invasion of Steve's personal space.

Being sure to avoid spilling his drink or accidentally sitting on Danny, Steve flops down and stretches, smiling with relief as Danny does the same, only his stretch is accompanied by a jaw-cracking yawn. He makes the small squeak Steve has come to associate with Danny's yawns, then settles himself in a sprawl that leaves his front half across Steve's legs and his back end almost hanging.

Steve smiles and puts a hand on Danny's neck, rubbing the soft fur on the dog's ear with his thumb.

"Hey, Danno?" he asks after they've been sitting together for long enough that Danny's started to drift off.

Caught between sleep and understanding Steve's question, Danny raises an eyebrow.

Steve chuckles, still caressing Danny's head.

"I got a call today from some people I know back east," he says, trying not to let his tension seep into Danny's awareness.

Danny's brow rises a little higher and he manages to crack one eye open, but nothing in his demeanor suggests that he has any idea what Steve's thinking.

"One of them served at the same time I did; we ran a few ops together, actually, back in Afghanistan- which you know is classified." Steve smiles at Danny's exasperated huff. "Classified" topics have been the subject of more than a couple silent arguments, since he's figured out enough of Danny's wide variety of expressions and gestures to figure out what he's saying most of the time, which means the phone code doesn't come into play very often.

"The other's really rich and incredibly secretive. You'd hate him."

Danny nods slightly, then yawns pointedly.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm getting a move on." Taking a few breaths to help him finalize the way he's going to phrase what John and Finch- mostly Finch- had told him, Steve scratches lightly at one of Danny's hypersensitive spots, smiling at the sudden kick Danny's leg gives.

"Do you know any mythology, the Greek and Roman kind?" Steve blurts.

The same brow from earlier, having settled itself to its usual place, rises again as Danny gives Steve a look that asks what that has to do with anything and will he be making a point any time soon, because nap time is rapidly approaching.

"What? I'm getting there." Steve shakes his head, knowing that he's either going to sound crazy- a relative term, yes, but one Danny's already been applying to him right along- or have a potentially defensive pit bull, neither of which is something he wants.

"You know the story of Romulus and Remus, then, right?" Danny nods, both brows furrowing. Steve refuses to give in to the temptation of rubbing his palm over the wrinkles forming on Danny's forehead and calling Danny an old man. "What about what happened to Romulus after Rome was built- where he went and what he did?"

Danny neither gets defensive nor gives him the look that says he's reconsidering their partnership. Instead, he shrugs and yawns, one of the small noises dogs make escaping his mouth.

The reaction is one Steve can understand perfectly well: "I'm tired and this is going nowhere; wake me up when something's happening."

"Okay, Danno. Finch's information must have been wrong."

Nodding absentmindedly, Danny snuggles closer, falling asleep even before Steve's had a chance to tell him has goodnight and not awakening when Steve swings his legs onto the couch so he can stretch out.

It takes a long time for sleep to come to the former Navy SEAL, in part because he's used to wearing himself out more before going to bed, and as he waits for Morpheus and his net, he wonders about the dog on his lap and whether his reaction hadn't actually been out of character.

* * *

Steve's phone goes off at around midnight, vibrating against his leg and waking him up. Danny doesn't stir, but it takes a lot to wake a slumbering pit bull who's determined to wake until the sun is shining.

Reaching into a pocket, Steve pulls it out and finds that he's gotten a new e-mail from someone named... Norman Birdwell, one of the many aliases Steve has been able to link to Finch.

The e-mail is only one line long itself- _The detective-_ but it's enough to get Steve's attention.

Upon opening the attachment, Steve finds himself face-to-face with a man whose face he's been seeing for months. The problem with this is that the man had, until now, been confined to Steve's painfully precise imagination, had been a shade who'd sat with Steve and talked about whatever case had been going on, providing company who could hold a conversation about things the evidence of which that had been sealed or destroyed... and occasionally providing a different type of stimulation that Steve refuses to consider beyond needing to clean up afterwards.

Incredulous, Steve scans the face more closely, but it's the same as the once he's been seeing for months: wide and open with deep-set blue eyes under a prominent brow, wrinkles around his mouth and at the corners of his eyes, a nearly perpetually-moving mouth, a dimpled chin and the kind of scruff that's nearly incessant- all creating a face that emotes more than the man probably intends.

Shaken, Steve sends back an e-mail in which he tells Finch to double check that he'd sent the right file.

The reply is nearly instantaneous and full of the recluse's usual unimpressed cheek.

_If it hadn't been the correct file, I wouldn't have sent it._

...which is fair enough, because with the exception of the earlier declaration of Williams' death, neither Finch nor John has ever steered Steve onto anything but the right path.

 _Sorry, Finch. I just think I've seen him before,_ Steve replies, hoping to mollify Finch's deserved irritation.

 _I can understand your wariness, Steve, and your apology is accepted,_ comes the response, proof that Finch is willing to accept the olive branch Steve is extending.

Then comes a second e-mail, this one from John.

_How long have you been seeing this man who looks like Williams?_

_About five months. Do you know something?_ Steve responds, suddenly nervous.

_What about Danny? How long have you had him?_

_Just under six months,_ he types, and he's about to hit send when he realizes what he's just written.

 _It's been almost as long, hasn't it?_ comes a second message from John.

_How did you know?_

_I didn't, but Harold did. He's sure you've been seeing Williams in your head, not actually seeing him._

The problem with having John and Harold as informants is exactly what makes them good at what they do: their inability to let things go undisturbed. Steve has the feeling that once Harold gets an idea or information, John takes it and applies his, at times overly direct, methods for either furthering it or using the information, no matter how limited, to get more. On a case, like with Williams, Steve is glad for them, but the idea of the two of them rooting around in his head is unsettling.

Sensing the tension that's built in the man beneath him, Danny begins wriggling in his sleep, and Steve has to grab the dog around the belly to stop him from falling over.

When Danny still doesn't settle, Steve goes through one of the relaxation techniques one of the few psychiatrists he'd seen who'd been able to help had taught him. It's almost painfully simple. Starting from his toes, he tightens a muscle or group of them, holds the tension for a count of ten, then releases it and moves further up his body.

He doesn't have to go further than his glutes for Danny to slip back into his previous state of impenetrable slumber, and he's just typing out a rebuttal for whatever plan the two are creating, when his phone vibrates again.

_There's no plan, simply information to be gathered._

Steve doesn't have to look at the name to know that Harold sent this, nor does he have to spend much time considering the message to know that Finch, despite having accepted Steve's apology, is still unhappy with him, which is why, instead of the rebuttal now saved in his drafts, Steve sends the truth.

_I've been seeing him when I sleep._

No reply comes for a long while- four minutes, which is almost an eternity when it comes to Finch.

When it does come, however, Steve finds himself wishing it hadn't come.

_One of the abilities Romulus was said to possess was the power to communicate through dreams._

John's final message is more succinct: _Time for another heart to heart with Danny._

Steve shakes his head, hoping to clear it of all the unnecessary thoughts that have gathered there, and stretches slightly. He can talk to Danny tomorrow.

* * *

He and Danny don't talk about mythology the next day, nor the next, nor the following eight, because Five-0 gets a corruption case that involves the trafficking of little kids, and he has no time or inclination to do anything other than throw himself into the middle of it.

Finally, after ten days of false leads and progressively less legal actions and more tactics from past ops, the team gets a break.

All four members- plus Danny, who'd grown more and more reluctant to leave HQ- wind up sneaking into the house of a well-respected senator in search of something, anything, to tie him to the kids they know he's been smuggling into and from Hawai'i.

Steve and Lori are in the basement, Chin and Kono keeping their eyes on the exits and bedrooms, when Lori starts looking around the open floor.

"Where's Danny?" she asks when Steve gives her a look.

"Chin, Kono, where is he?" Steve asks over the comm.

After a few moments, Kono responds, "I don't see him in the house, boss," at the same time Chin's voice crackles, "He's in the... garden?"

Steve takes off, then, with Lori right behind him as he races outside and nearly trips over Danny, who's in the near corner of the front garden, snuffling and digging wildly.

"Hey, Danno, what are you doing?"

Danny doesn't stop, just huffs.

"Come on, D. You've got to give me something. A torn-up garden isn't something we can explain if-"

With a triumphant yap, Danny emerges from the hole, body covered in dirt, but with a set of keys Steve immediately recognizes clenched between his teeth.

"Hey, didn't that human trafficker we busted last year have keys like this?" Lori asks.

"Yeah, he definitely did." Steve pries the large keychain, equipped with silver and gold keys with handles shaped like fists, from Danny's mouth. "I think we should pay Sang Min another visit, don't you?"

* * *

They don't pay him a visit- or at least, Steve and Danny don't. The moment Steve has the keys in his hands, Danny shakes himself and runs to the driveway.

"What's he doing?" comes Kono's voice. Rather than across the comm, Steve hears it on his own, and looks up to see the two natives have joined Lori and him on the garden walkway.

"He's got something, I bet," Chin answers.

"But we've got to visit Sang Min," his cousin returns.

Something clicks in Steve's head as he watches Danny lope toward the street.

"Lori, go with Chin and Kono. I want the three of you talking to Sang Min. Don't accept anything about him sleeping. If he's involved- and we know he is- he won't be sleeping for a while anyway." The three nod, albeit reluctantly. "I'm going to catch up with Danny and see what he's got. Call if you find anything."

With that, Steve gives them a nod, then runs after Danny, who's waiting at the end of the driveway for him, the clean fur at the back of his body gleaming in the moonlight.

As soon as Steve's close enough for him to hook the long leash onto Danny's harness- a precaution Five-0 had begun to take after Danny had barely avoided falling over the edge of a cliff while pursuing a suspect, saved only by the fact that Lori had been coming from the opposite direction and grabbed his collar with enough force to send the dog pitching into the opposite direction- the terrier's hackles rise and he takes off, muscles bunching and stretching as he and Steve head for the communal area: a pool, golf course, expensive children's playground and general rec area.

The moment Danny's managed to scrabble over the fence- and how he does that when his body is clearly meant for more horizontal pursuits, Steve doesn't have the time to imagine- he's off again, nose to the ground and inhaling heavily enough that Steve can hear him clearly over the sound of both Danny's and his breathing.

A little over halfway across the children's playground, Danny veers violently to the side, heading instead to the golf course.

Pit bulls aren't built for long distance running, however, and deep coughs soon color Danny's breath, but he doesn't slow. If anything, he hunches closer to the ground and speeds up, paws tearing up dirt and turf that costs more than half a year of Steve's salary.

At first Danny makes his way to the storage shed Steve had seen earlier in the week and asked the groundskeeper to see- which has revealed nothing but an older ride on mower and other supplies- but as they get closer, he changes direction again, this time heading over the green toward the area surrounding the seventh hole, which is under construction due to animals burrowing beneath it.

Drawing nearer, however, Steve sees in the set of Danny's body- eyes narrowed, muzzle forward, body beginning to hunch as though gathering itself to jump- that the dog had picked up something Steve hadn't and is now gathering himself for some type of assault.

The tension in Danny's body only heightens as they arrive at the hole.

Head askew, one ear to the ground, Danny nearly falls into the the hole.

A few moments pass as he ponders the small opening in the earth.

Then he sucks in a breath and begins to make as much noise as he can, alternating between the savage snarls that somehow become more menacing when he inhales and desolate howls that remind Steve too much of the day HQ had been burned down, all while jumping up and down around the hole.

Suddenly, Danny stops.

Nothing happens, not for over a minute, but before Steve can ask what Danny's doing, he hears a muffled voice say something in Japanese. The accent is one he can recognize as being from the Kyoto Prefecture.

"Dare ga desu ka?" 1Steve shouts, wishing his Japanese were as strong as his Mandarin, or at least Cantonese.

"Bokutachi!"2 returns the voice. If Steve's remembering correctly, boku means that the speaker is a young boy, which is good news and bad news- good news, there's proof of the club's involvement, bad news, there are only children in there.

"E... to... Kimi wa dare da ka?"3

"Kodomo!"4

The situation is becoming more frustrating and easily resolved, so Steve decides to give talking one more try, and if it doesn't work, then he'll do something else.

"Anata wa deguchi o sanshō shite imasu ka? Sore tomo... doa?" 5He knows that most of what he's been saying is off, but the idea of frightening children by bursting in with a weapon in his hands is almost as repugnant as the idea of leaving them alone.

"Iie,"6 comes the sad reply.

Steve immediately sets to looking around for something, anything that might either be a hidden door or some other type of entrance, but his search is derailed by the feeling of something- Danny, as it turns out- rooting in one of his back pockets. He immediately stills, unwilling to risk startling the dog and having him take a chunk out his ass- or at least leaving some nasty bruises, which Steve knows for a fact Danny can do, since that had been the fate of a suspect who'd turned violent and thrown Lori to the floor and kicked her hard enough to make her cough blood.

After an incredibly tense minute, Danny emerges victorious, keys clamped in his teeth as he trots to the hole and, after inspecting it, drops them into it. He then looks at Steve and does something that, once he's had a few moments to try to puzzle it out, Steve realizes is Danny's way of pointing- though Steve refuses to feel stupid about it, because dog's don't have fingers, so it had looked as if Danny had been trying to shake his hand.

Getting with the program, Steve crawls forward and reaches into the opening in the earth. As he searches for the keys, Steve's fingers come across the realization that the bottom of the hole is made of wood and that there's a small indentation, almost as if...

With a small, "Ah!" Steve finds the keys and, searching with his fingers tips, tries to guide one into the indentation. When it doesn't fit, he goes for the next, then the next and so on until he reaches the fifth key and finally manages to slip it into what he's realized is a keyhole.

As he's about to turn it, however, he hears barking from a ways away and looks up to see that Danny, who had sneaked away and started sniffing around a few minutes earlier, running toward him, body heaving as the loudest barks Steve has ever heard are torn from his mouth.

Whatever Danny's trying to say is lost on him, though, because Steve's fingers, without his conscious consent, twist the key. He hears a small click and is about to shout to the boy that everything's going to be all right when the hole explodes and something sends him rocketing backwards.

* * *

He wakes sometime later to the familiar sounds of Lori and Kono's voices, one soft and worried while the other is tense and snappish.

It takes him a while, but Steve manages to summon up enough strength not only to open his eyes but also to bring the women sitting in the chairs at the foot of his (Hospital? Hospital) bed into focus. Lori's got a book in her hands- the most up to date guide to profiling, if he remembers her excitement about it correctly- and Kono, who's obviously just sat back down, is doodling on a piece of paper Lori had probably brought for her. What exactly Kono's drawing has him baffled, though, because things are still a bit blurry and even though she'd started out with a few loops, she's moved onto lines, and what could-

Oh, of course she's drawing a cock.

Steve shouldn't really be surprised by this anymore. He knows that she draws them when she's bored and saves them up so she can leave them on people's desks for times when she can't shout, "Just throw on a condom, if you're gonna be such a dick!" which may be an old line, but it serves her well. Actually, Kono's technique has improved over her time with the taskforce- especially the proportions, which had made them look like elephant trunks in wheelchairs at first- and Steve's found himself laughing more than once at the comments and occasional decorations- Christmas time tends to lend itself to a lot of "mas dickery" and dicks with hats- she leaves.

"Hey, I think he's up!" comes Lori's blessedly quiet voice, that somehow penetrates the ringing Steve's just started to hear.

She and Kono are immediately moving to his side, quiet despite the way they hurry to him, and the sight of the instant joy and relief that's obvious on their faces makes Steve's heart clench. He knows he means a lot to them, just as they mean as much to him, but he'd known the same thing about his father. The difference is that Kono and Lori- hell, even Chin- don't ever not show their concern or their affection. Seeing that he matters to someone makes more of an impression on him than cold knowledge ever has.

"Boss, you okay?" Kono asks as she comes to stand beside him. It's a stupid question and all three of them know it is, but it's something that gets asked because there's something behind it, "Promise you aren't going to disappear?"

Steve tries to answer and is only coming up with wet-sounding air when something cold is pressed into one of his hands: a cup of cut ice, which, smiling, Steve slowly and carefully- and without further assistance from Lori and only tension from Kono, both of whom know that helping would only frustrate him- brings the cup to his lips and shifts it enough for a few pieces of ice to slide into his mouth.

Not chewing them because he knows that, whether hospitalized or not, Kono will do something in return, Steve hurriedly tries to get the ice to melt.

"I'm all right," he eventually grates out, noticing twin smiles on the women's faces.

"Chin Ho's out talking to your doctor," Lori says helpfully as Steve pushes more ice to his mouth. "Don't do that; your hands are disgusting!" she says, cutting herself off and scowling when he tries to use his fingers as shovels for the ice. Once Steve's hands are safely back on the cup and nowhere near anything going into his mouth, Lori continues, her scowl now replaced by a fond smile. "Yesterday Chin decided that he'd try to get ahead of the game and start talking her into letting you out early, since she's new and hasn't had the Five-0 Experience yet."

Both Steve and Kono snort, well aware of what seemingly every hospital on Hawai'i calls the initiation for every new nurse and doctor.

"He knows her through Malia, though, so he's pretty sure she'll help," Lori continues, not deigning to recognize her comrades' noises.

"Not to forget the outrageous flirting," Kono adds. "If Malia finds out, she'll castrate him with a blunt scalpel."

This time it's Steve and Lori who makes noises: Steve's a strangled cough where Lori's a hum of agreement, and the smile Kono gives them is full of wicked intent.

"Definitely not forgetting the flirting," Lori says, smiling more than Steve's ever seen before. It's a good look on her, and it's apparent that Kono feels the same, since she keeps looking between Steve and Lori with a huge grin on her face, which is good, because for a while, Steve had been worried that the two women wouldn't be able to get along. Now, however, that's a feeling of the past, especially after Kono grabs the folding chairs from the foot of the bed and, once the women are seated, throws an arm over Lori's shoulders.

"How long have I been out?" Steve asks, interrupting a story Lori had been telling about Governor Denning nearly falling on his ass at a state function.

"Almost nine days," Kono replies guiltily. "They put you in a coma for a few days- four or five, I think- then said that all we could do was wait and see, but that you were lucky to have survived the blast."

"The blast... How _did_ I survive?"

"Nobody here knows. We were thinking that maybe you would?"

Steve shakes his head.

"No, the last thing I remember is turning the key, hearing a click, then getting pushed backwards."

"But not by the bomb, then?" Lori asks. "That would explain why you don't have actual burns, just some blistering."

Something suddenly clicks in Steve's head.

"How did you know to come get me? Did someone call it in?"

"One of the older women next to the green called, but only after we were already on our way," comes a reply from Kono, who shifts nervously. "We were a bit confused because we got a mass text from you telling us where to find you, but by the time we got there, you were out cold and no one else was around."

"Can I see it?"

"What?"

"The text."

"Here," offer Lori, phone extended with the text already pulled up.

 _At the community golf course, hole 7.  
_ _Thought we found evidence, but it was a trap.  
_ _Bomb went off. Get here now._

"That doesn't sound like me at all," is the only thing Steve thinks to say.

"We were thinking that a bomb going off might alter your text-speak," Lori answers. "Or it was someone using your phone and pretending to be you, so we called HPD and went in prepared for a fight." She shakes her head. "I almost would have preferred that..."

Thinking about the new information, Steve's mind moves into a state of data-processing, only to be yanked back into the room.

"You said there was no one else around?"

"Nobody, just you," Kono replies.

"Then where the hell is Danny?"

* * *

Four days later, Steve is discharged and allowed home, provided someone's there with him. The team had already decided that they'd stay with him in shifts, so there's nothing to be decided. Chin is careful not to hover too much as they make their way to Steve's truck, and even en route, he lets Steve be.

Hearing that nobody has any idea where Danny is had hit him hard, and Steve had spent the following days mapping out places he'd thought the dog might go and given them to his team, who had searched each area he'd asked, both because he'd asked and because Danny had become part of their family.

Still, even after four days and more creative thinking of places that Danny might have gone- which had become a sufficient reason for going into places they shouldn't- there hadn't been any sign of the pit bull, and Steve had quickly become frustrated and finicky, so much so that his team had stopped visiting him unaccompanied. It had hurt, realizing that, but at the same time, not knowing anything about his pet- a team he'd started using just to tick Danny off- whether he's still alive, if he's hurt or sick, where he is, it had all begun to take its toll on him.

Returning home, despite Steve's expectation that it might ease some of his restlessness, only makes the dog's absence more tangible, and Chin is quick to give Steve space- not to leave him on his own, though, just to let Steve breathe on his own.

After the passing of two cold hours, Steve finds himself in a ball on the bed, a sheet wrapped around him to appease an unhappy Chin, with a bone-deep sense of loneliness. He hasn't felt this alone since his first days on the mainland after being sent from Hawai'i, which tells him more about how much Danny has come to mean home to him than Steve had wanted to admit.

* * *

Five miserable days go by, during which he learns that his team has found evidence linking the senator they'd been trying to peg- as well as another two and a few drug-lords, but not Sang Min, as the keys had simply been modeled after his distinctive ones- to the explosion and a plot to end Five-0 by getting rid of its head. The knowledge that Danny's missing because of a plot to get to  _him_  makes Steve sick, just as it would if Chin, Kono or Lori were the one missing. It puts him in a bad place, because as the leader, he's responsible for them and their safety.

He knows that not eating isn't going to help the team or Danny, but the idea of being perfectly healthy- ignoring a few heat blisters and the ringing in his ears that's finally starting to fade- makes Steve sick.

Then, on the sixth day after being discharged, Steve gets a visitor.

He's still curled in the fetal position, going over places he and the others may have missed, when he hears Kono get up and open the door. There's a bit of chatter that follows, after which the house goes silent for a few minutes.

Then he hears footsteps on the stairs: light and steady, inaudible to anyone who hasn't been trained to hear such soft things or isn't running on a few hours of sleep snatched between nightmares.

He isn't surprised, then, when the door opens moments later, but he  _is_  surprised to see who it is.

"Cath?"

The woman smiles at him, tentative.

"I heard about what happened and thought you might like some fresh company?"

"You mean, there's no pit bull here, so you don't have to worry," he returns flatly and begins to turn away.

"I do in part, but I also mean that I know you, so I know that no matter how much you deny it, you're lonely and that all you've done so far is get mad at yourself about Danny."

Steve hates that she's right, but that doesn't change that she is.

The room is silent for a moments as the two people look over each other, Cath's eyes catching the marks on Steve's face and hands and Steve's running up and down her body, mentally going over what's beneath the loose dress she's wearing. He even knows that he's been caught

"You know," Cath starts, low and tempting, even if her face is still somewhat wary, "Kono's got her headphones in, and I could hear them halfway up the stairs..."

Sex is... not quite the last thing on Steve's mind, though it's far from the first, but as he looks at her, he realizes that some time spent with Cath doing the "horizontal hula" as Kono has cheerfully and euphemistically started calling sex is something he's been craving. Between work and keeping Danny from getting stuck in the fridge again, Steve's had very little time to himself and less for even a quick fuck, or any other form of release, in even the most disgusting alley off the seediest club.

Just like that, the realization of how long it's been since he'd been close to someone and how much he misses being with someone is enough to turn his mind from absolute rejection to welcoming acceptance.

* * *

He's not entirely sure why they're on the floor, but Cath is warm and smiling beneath him, her body moving slowly against his, so Steve doesn't have any complaints, not even when one of his hands slips and he winds up with rug burn up the length of his forearm, and when Cath gasps out a half-bitten off mixture of "More," "Harder," and "Shit, Steve, come  _on,_ " he is happy to comply, pushing in and pulling back hard enough he nearly slips out a few times.

They're both panting and Cath is running her nails down his back- a combination of pain and pleasure that's just a little too cliche, and heavy on the pain, for Steve's taste- when something scratches at the door.

"Hmm, go away!" Steve calls, just as Cath shouts, "Not now!"

The scratching stops and both return to the task at hand, which has now become getting off as quickly as they can, only for it to return once more a few minutes later.

"What the hell are you-"

The door bursts open, and for a single, horrifying moment, Steve is sure that it's Kono, come to get blackmail.

Instead, an exhausted, tattered-looking pit bull stumbles into the room and falls over.

After staring at it for a few seconds, Steve turns back to Cath, whose face is sad and defeated.

"Don't," she says, holding up a hand before he can even say anything. "I know what you're going to say, Steve, and I don't... I can't hear it, not right now. Just pull out and get dressed. I'll see myself out."

"But, Cath-" he protests, only to be cut off.

"No buts, Steve. Whether you wanted to or not, you've made your decision. I just hope it was the right one." The woman shakes her head, even as a small, wry smile makes its way onto her face. "And if you don't pull out on your own, I'll take your dick with me."

* * *

Dressed- in sweatpants and the breeze they make when he walks, but dressed nonetheless- Steve drops down next to Danny where the pit bull is lying on the floor.

Having called downstairs to Kono, who hadn't heard or seen Danny come in, to warm up and bring up some of the boiled chicken and some water for Danny- a request that had been met first with incredulity, then the sound of someone scurrying around the kitchen- there isn't much more he can do. He isn't a vet, and all the first aid he'd learned applies to humans (entirely) with bullet wounds or burns (mostly). Neither of those specialties is useful here, however, because Danny doesn't have any open wounds, at least none that Steve can find. Mostly he looks dirty and underfed, but Steve has his phone on hand so he can call someone with a more intimate knowledge of the body: Max.

The medical examiner is reluctant about being the one to look over Danny since he practices on humans, particularly those of the dead variety, but once Kono's brought the food and drink, Steve trades the phone for what's in her arms, along with instructions to convince Max that he's the best one to come look at their comrade.

As she sets about being convincing, Steve's attention falls on Danny, who's been in the same position for far longer than he usually stays, excepting when he's asleep.

"Hey, Danno," Steve murmurs, dreading what response- or no response- he'll get.

Grunting, the dog opens his eyes and fixes Steve with one of his many glares that says where exactly Steve can ram his words. Never before has someone's vexation with him made Steve so happy.

"Come on, D; you've got to eat." When Danny's mouth remains tightly shut, Steve presses on. "You never had a problem with it before- unless we count never stopping."

The teasing seems to cut through the fog that Steve realizes had probably settled on the dog days earlier. The glassy quality of Danny's eyes disappears, as does the too-loose quality of his muscles.

"You want a bite of this? It's chicken, boiled and-"

Steve has barely put the piece of meat under Danny's nose before the dog snags it and gobbles it down. As soon as it's gone, an expectant face replaces the former, a tired version of the familiar one he'd always worn while Steve had been preparing Danny's meal- or when one of Danny's paws had been on Steve's knee, doggy face openly begging for some of whatever had been in Steve's hands.

His face says that Danny's ready for food, but Steve has no idea how the bath and Max's examination will go.

Things are best handled one by one, though, so thoughts of Max and getting Danny clean are pushed aside to make room for the relief that Danny's alive and the flicker of joy Steve gets every time the dog takes the chicken from him, especially once Danny's wide tongue starts to lick his fingers after the piece of chicken is safely in Danny's mouth.

As he and Kono, who'd managed to persuade Max to come look Danny over, lie on the floor, Kono taking over slipping Danny small pieces so they don't accidentally over feed him and make him sicker, Steve catches a jolt of something yellow by his bedroom door, and for a moment, he thinks he sees a man there, eyes closed with pleasure despite the emaciated state of his body.

Then Steve blinks and man is gone, but the feeling of someone else being in the room doesn't leave.

* * *

"Commander McGarrett, Miss Kalakaua," Max greets them somewhat coldly from the bedroom doorway.

"Max, you made it!" Kono grabs one of his hands and tows him across the room to where Steve and Danny are still lying.

"Of course I did. Your case was quite cogent and I said I would come, thus my being here," comes the snappish reply.

"Something wrong, Max?"

"Beyond my being called here to take care of our animal teammate? No, there is not, but I do not care for the insinuation that if I hadn't come, I wouldn't have cared about Danny. He is my friend just as he is yours, and his health is important to me- which is why I told you that a vet would be better suited to checking him. My specialty is the  _human_ body; dog's bodies have similarities to humans, yes, but they are entirely different animals. I do not wish to accidentally cause more pain for Danny, which, as I attempted to explain earlier, is not something I would like to do. Nevertheless, you called and I am here, so I will take a look at him in case there is something I  _can_ do."

Steve blinks. He's never heard Max this upset before, nor has he ever been scolded by him. Kono looks equally confused and shamed, but as neither of them knows what to say, they remain silent before the medical examiner's quiet indignation.

Eyeing them for a time, Max seems to take Steve and Kono's silence as understanding and walks through the room to Danny's side, where he squats down and gently lays a hand on Danny's cheek.

"Don't worry, Danny. If there's anything that needs to be done, it will be done."

For all that it comes out stilted, almost uncomfortable, the dog accepts Max's words with a small sound of understanding and doesn't react for the duration of the examination except for a few flinches and whines.

Nearly half an hour later, Max gives Danny a small scratch behind his ears, then straightens and stretches.

"And? How is he?" Steve asks, impatient.

The flat look Max levels at him is more than enough to keep him from asking anything further.

"Danny is severely emaciated, has multiple burns- most likely third degree- and a multitude of cuts and abrasions that, once the grime has been cleared away, will become visible. As the closest person resembling a doctor here, I would say that Danny absolutely must be brought to an emergency veterinary facility."

"I don't think I know of any of those nearby," Kono puts in, obviously concerned.

"Correct," Max replies, calm despite the nervous energy from the other two. "There isn't an emergency facility for pets within a reasonable distance. If you will permit me to make a call, however, I believe that we may have some luck."

Without waiting for a response, he pulls out his phone and, after typing out a number, holds it to his ear with a grim expression.

Then Steve hears a woman's voice with whom Max begins a rapid conversation in Japanese, but as both he and the woman on the other end speak with accents from Osaka, Steve struggles to catch what they're saying.

By the time Max hangs up, the grim expression is gone, replaced by a determined one.

"An old acquaintance of mine, Doctor Gabrielle Asano, works as the vet at the nearest zoo and has agreed to see Danny and treat him as well as she can. I have already described to her what I have found, so she will be taking this time to prepare space for Danny. As things stand, there is nothing more I can do here, so I will drive ahead to assist Doctor Asano with whatever she may need."

With a short nod, Max turns on his heel and makes his way to the door, but he doesn't make it through before Steve calls his name.

"Yes, Lieutenant Commander?"

Steve hesitates at Max's tone but answers nonetheless.

"Thank you."

Nodding again, the medical examiner turns to go, but Steve isn't finished.

"And, Max? I know that you care about Danny just as much as we do."

The tension that had seeped into the short man's shoulders eases- not completely, but enough for Steve to know that the dangerous rolling of emotions within Max's small body won't end the odd friendship the two of them have fashioned. Max, as the team had discovered during the Trash Man case, loves deeply and holds onto that love for a long time, so seeing Danny in the horrible shape he's in and being incapable of giving some sort of aid would have upset him at the best of times. Steve should have remembered that and taken it into consideration, rather than rushing ahead and believing that Max, who sees bodies that dead rather than dying, wouldn't be bothered by the sight of Danny in this condition.

"I understand, Steve, that Danny is very important to you," Max says softly, calling Steve by his first name rather than his rank, "and that you expect the very most of us- as you should- but there are times when our skills do not stretch to the places you believe they should. I am no more a veterinarian than Kono is a secretary; there is overlap in some of our abilities but not enough that we can perform to the degree you're demanding. All I'm asking you to do is remember and respect our limits."

His thoughts now all aired, Max walks away, the silence of his departure unbroken until his car's engine hums to life and carries the man away.

Turning to Kono, Steve sees that she agrees with everything the other man had said.

It's a humbling experience, being told that he's pushing too hard for things that can't be done and seeing the toll it's taking on his team, but it's one he's sure that Danny, whose job it usually is to keep him grounded, would think is necessary.

The thought of Danny reminds him of the situation, and Steve immediately jumps into action.

"Come on, Danno, time to go to the vet."

Both people laugh at the grunted protest that follows.

* * *

Three hours and nearly enough minutes for a fourth later, Steve and Danny are back at home on the couch, Danny dozing between Steve's legs as the man carefully strokes the dog's side, being sure to avoid the bandages and shaved areas in Danny's formerly pristine coat.

Doctor Asano- Gabrielle, as she'd insisted they call her, had turned out to be a surprisingly beautiful and kind woman who had taken to Danny immediately. Her hands hadn't trembled as she'd touched and prodded, and she hadn't shown any fear for herself, not even when Danny had growled at her after one of her hands had grazed a tender spot. If anything, she'd seemed happy to hear the growl and see Danny's lips pull off his teeth. Nothing had gotten to her, and she'd been genuinely concerned about Danny's health.

Max had been there, too, as he'd said, and he and Gabrielle had made a strong team, anticipating each other and being where the other needed him or her to be, doing what had needed to be done.

Chin and Lori had joined the four, five counting Danny, at the zoo not half an hour after Steve, Kono and Danny had arrived and sat in silence for an entire hour before the fidgeting had begun. Kono had drawn more genitals- she'd begun to include bodies, both male and female, to her surprisingly well-drawn repertoire- than Steve had cared to count, Chin had pulled out a book entitled  _Crash Cart: A Guide to Understanding Medical Lingo_ and Lori, after disappearing for a few minutes, had returned with some sort of squirrel-like animal clutched to her chest. _  
_

For his part, Steve, after getting kicked out, had fallen into a meditative state, interrupted only by Chin's long suffering sigh upon discovering Kono's stack of artistic jiggly bits and a short shriek from Lori after the squirrel had gotten tired of being cradled in her arms and jumped onto her face before ultimately deciding to make itself a nest in her hair.

When the doctors had finally emerged, everyone had stopped what they were doing and waited for Danny to appear, but when the dog remained out of sight, they'd all turned to Max and Gabrielle, who were fighting grins with varying amounts of success.

"I'm sorry to say this," the woman had begun, "but in order to stitch him up properly, we, uh-" She'd broken off, then, trying to smother rapidly rising giggles. "We had to-"

"We had to shave off quite a bit of his fur," Max had finished in a rush, hand flying to his face the second the words had gotten out.

It had taken a few minutes for them to calm down, but once they had, Max and Gabrielle had gone on to explain that they'd thought about neutering Danny since he'd been there already and that dogs' heat season will be here soon, but hadn't had Steve's permission, so they hadn't gone ahead and done anything.

Swallowing hard, Steve had nodded, then craned his head, because, yes, that had been one of Danny's russet paws.

Then the rest of the dog had emerged, and the tension of the past few days had completely melted away in the face of an incredibly unhappy and spottily shaved Danny. Just his expression, one that flitted between mutiny and depression, had been enough to send everyone in the room into relieved laughter.

Now, almost an hour later, Steve is happy just to have his Danno back, even if he looks like a wreck, and it's that thought, knowing that Danny's with him and going to be all right, along with Danny's warm body that lulls Steve to sleep.

* * *

Steve jolts into awareness because instead of Danny's familiar presence, there's a man sprawled between his legs, his head a few inches above Steve's navel.

Frighteningly, Steve recognizes him. The hair is unkempt compared with its usual coif, his eyes are closed and there are bruises on his body- which is completely naked, Steve's brain is more than happy to note- but Steve recognizes the man's build immediately.

He's got Daniel Williams asleep on his lap.

"Mm... not actually asleep," the man's mouth says into Steve's belly.

"You- you're not?"

"Haven't been for, oh, two and a half hours, I think."

"Oh... Why didn't you wake me up?"

The man sits up, then, pulling his upper body off Steve. "Because that would be rude. When you're a guest, you don't wake your host. You sit in the dark- or light- and you think about life or how much you're dying for a way to get to the bathroom without waking him up or what cats are really thinking."

Steve blinks, thrown.

"Aren't you going to have a freak out? That's kind of the general reaction to waking up with a naked guy on your lap- if you didn't go to bed that way," Danny- who else could it be?- asks, far too awake.

"Harold told me you're a shapeshifter, but I hadn't thought they exist."

"Strictly speaking, they don't," comes the reply. "There are people like me who have one animal- and one animal only, so don't ask me to become a bear or anything, because it doesn't work that way- but calling us shapeshifters isn't quite right. It's sort of... politically incorrect."

"Politically incorrect," Steve echoes, disbelieving, and he's already had his freak out, so he's just going to go with the flow of things.

"Yeah, you know, like calling someone from China a-"

"I get it!" Steve cuts across him. "For a guy who's going on about shapeshifter being incorrect, you're pretty eager to insult the Chinese, man."

Danny shakes his head.

"There's a difference between saying a word and calling someone that word."

"Still going to get your ass kicked."

"A very good point, my giant friend," Danny replies, a smile on his face.

They go quiet for a while, but Steve's desire to learn more about whatever Danny is doesn't let him remain silent.

"So what are you, then?"

"Excuse me?"

"You said you aren't a shapeshifter, so what are you?"

The man ponders this as he leans back, flopping into a sloppy cross-legged position with his legs so far apart Steve can't help but notice that his imagination's idea of Danny Williams had been the same as reality.

"Hey, I'll tell you what. You make some breakfast- yes, oatmeal will be fine, provided there's brown sugar around here- and I'll fill you in."

Danny flashes him a bright smile as he tips to the side, getting up the same way Danny the dog had done and walking to the bathroom without waiting for a response.

Steve takes a moment to mourn the comparative silence he'd had when Danny hadn't been human, then gets up and starts breakfast.

* * *

Loud sniffing pulls Steve's attention from the stove.

Standing in the doorway, towel wrapped around his hips, is Danny. There's no sign of the almost haphazard shaving from yesterday, and other than a few fading marks, there's no sign of the burns that had been hidden beneath Dog Danny's- as Steve is now calling him to keep them separate- body. Human Danny appears to be completely dry, so Steve assumes the towel is more for him to wear something than to dry himself, though why, after his previous nudity, Danny does so, doesn't make any sense.

More sniffing accompanies the surprisingly short man's entrance.

"Smells good," he says appreciatively, walking to the table and taking a seat.

"I'm glad. It'd be a shame if you didn't like it," Steve replies, suddenly grumpy.

Danny just chuckles, low and and happy.

"Anyone ever tell you you're a bad host?"

"I don't typically have unexpected guests."

"Hmm, that doesn't really surprise me. SEALs aren't good people to sneak up on, you know."

Steve's attention immediately focuses on Danny.

"What makes you say that?"

"I woke you up once, early in our time together, and you almost took my head off. I didn't breathe right for a week after that, which is when I figured out that surprising you wasn't the best thing for my survival."

"Yet you kept doing it." Steve's voice comes out flatter than he'd intended.

"Mm, I do, don't I?" The man at the table suddenly cocks his head. "You should probably take the oatmeal off now, if you aren't going to burn it."

"What, you can hear it overheating?"

"No, but I can smell it." Danny's flat tone matches Steve's from earlier.

Just as he's bringing the food to the table, Steve's brain finally finishes processing Danny's earlier comments.

"Hold on. Being a dog, you can remember that?"

Attention having been on the two bowls in his reluctant host's hands, Danny blinks and shakes his head.

"Yeah, I can remember it- not the way you're thinking, though."

Steve raises a brow.

"Not the way, I'm thinking, huh?"

"Definitely not," Danny replies around a mouthful of steaming oatmeal, which he promptly drops back into the bowl with a small, pained sound, his tongue immediately flicking about as he tries to stop the burning. "Damn it, that was way too hot." He starts looking around for something, and, not finding it, returns his attention to Steve. "Is there cold milk around here?"

Steve nods and grabs the milk from the fridge, passing it over with some wariness, unsure what Danny's going to do with it.

"A cup, too, please," says the not-a-shapeshifter.

Somewhat thrown by the sudden emergence of manners, Steve gets the cup without thinking about it.

"Thank you."

Steve sits down next to Danny, his cereal forgotten in place of contemplation of the creature a few feet away.

"You're staring," Danny's voice interrupts. "I don't really mind, but it feels weird since you usually don't pay much attention to me in the morning."

"Sorry. I, uh-"

"Didn't remember that I can remember? Don't know what to do with a Half- which is the name for people like me, the ones who aren't shapeshifters? Are completely out of your depth and on the edge of a panic attack? Want me to leave?"

A strange expression had twisted Danny's soft features as he'd rattled off a bunch of possible ways Steve's sentence could have ended, and it takes Steve a bit of mental acrobatics to look past the sardonic tone and figure out what Danny's actually saying, without having to say it.

"You're afraid of me, aren't you?"

The Half- Steve has to remember to say that instead of shapeshifter or Danny's probably going to make a fuss- narrows his eyes and studies Steve from his place beneath his heavy brow, but he doesn't speak, which is confirmation in itself.

"Danny, you've seen me naked, not to mention in the middle of having sex with Cath," Steve tries, going for lighthearted banter, but Danny's not having it.

"And you've seen me lick my balls," he shoots back.

It shouldn't be funny, but between the dark expression and the angry tone, Danny is suddenly the most comical thing Steve has ever seen. He winds up laughing too hard and puts his hand in his too-hot oatmeal.

Danny's expression doesn't flicker. He seems determined to be unhappy, and for a reason Steve doesn't understand, this makes his gut twist and his mind tell him no, an unhappy Danny isn't something he can have.

"Hey, Danno," he tries.

Danny grunts something at him through the oatmeal he's shoved into his mouth, which makes Steve smile for a reason he can't quite name.

"Huh? What was that? I couldn't quite hear you through the food you've got shoved in your mouth."

"I said, 'What?'" Danny's reply, for all its snark, doesn't come across with any heat since his face is red and his head is nearly tucked against his chest.

"Oh, I just..." Steve's in trouble here, because he hadn't really had a follow to that, so he says the first thing that comes to mind. "I was just wondering if you'e actually going to finish our earlier conversation or what?"

Given all the things he might have said, Steve's luck must be good today, because that's one of the few that wouldn't result in some sort of freak out, whether his, Danny's or both.

Face turning thoughtful, Danny takes another mouthful of cereal and chews it slowly.

By the time he's swallowed, Steve is only a few moments away from walking over, grabbing him and doing something- what, he doesn't know, but it's something.

"You mentioned Harold," the Half says suddenly, and Steve is immediately no longer in a dangerous place.

"Uh-huh, you know him?"

Danny tilts his head, something he'd done often as a dog.

"In a roundabout way. His partner helped my mom out, actually."

"John?"

Danny nods. "Yeah, the guy who was, what, Special Forces and CIA?"

"That's John, all right."

"Well, he helped my mom a while ago and she's not one for secrecy about anything, so as soon as I was within earshot, it was all, 'tall, dark and handsome in such a lovely gray suit.' Now I, I am an inquisitive man, especially about some guy who makes my mother sing- and I do mean that literally- his praises- so I followed the trail of angry mobsters and hospitalized morons. Now, a pattern started to emerge in their injuries: nearly all ones meant to incapacitate, marksmanship you don't see outside the finest of America's Finest and always stories of the guy either having somebody with him or talking to somebody. Now that sounds like something New York would spit out, you know? Ma'd been living in the Bronx then, spending time somewhere crazier than inland Jersey so her art could flourish, so I made a few inquiries, you know? Asked some guys I'd helped get clean or testified to their character or something, and yeah, it turns out that this Suit- capitalized because that's the creative name these guys gave him- he's been getting involved in all sorts of things, so I decided to do something a little more befitting the Shore than my nice place back East."

Danny pauses, shaking his head, which gives Steve's head time to put in a few pauses for breath and separate the dashes and commas and stress things in ways that make sense to him. He's nearing almost complete understanding when Danny continues.

"Now this, this I am not proud of doing, but I'm not embarrassed either, so don't try to use it to make me feel weird or whatever it is you willing occupants of this literal cesspool do to make people who live more culturally diverse lives feel uncomfortable- which I know you do, because 'haole,' no matter its roots, is racist and not nice and even though your fire dancers are in skirts, you give guys in dresses weird looks, don't think I don't see that, because anyone who isn't too busy ogling the women in bikinis, an admittedly understandable reaction, I'll admit, would take notice- but back in New York City, where freaks- and I do mean real freaks, the kind who'll mug a kid or shoot up a hospital because they're bored- abound, one drag queen calling for a man named John isn't anything at all worth noticing."

Face aglow with a wicked light, Danny smiles, but Steve's still trying to finish catching up and reordering all of Danny's previous words- he's served with guys from New York and Jersey, even Connecticut and Massachusetts, but not a single one of them had been as excessively communicative as Danny- to give it the attention he really should.

Danny's next sentence speeds up the process by knocking everything he'd previously said straight from Steve's head.

"It only took four days of me stumbling around, pretending to shoot up and sleeping on the street- in a dress that was definitely too small and way too short, because I am not a hussie, Steven- while calling out for John Reese, for the man himself to appear, tiny friend back in the car he'd left waiting."

"You- you what?"

"Then we- Hm? There a problem?"

"Yeah, there's a problem. Your idea of drawing out a guy with military training and... What did you call it? 'Marksmanship you don't see outside the finest of America's Finest?' Your great idea was to irritate him into blowing his cover? You knew he'd been successfully eluding police for months, right?"

The smile Danny gives him is all teeth.

"It wasn't quite, 'annoy him into coming out,' which has some very suitable innuendo attached to it, but it's part of it. There was also to part in which I called him out by name. I asked him how his small friend was, too, which I forgot to mention earlier. I had a plan- not the best plan, but I was doing it on my own and really, what more was there?"

Steve stares at Danny, suddenly realizing that beneath the way Danny had always been on his case about doing stupid things, he'd always been at his side. Loyalty can only take someone so far, and Steve's a bit embarrassed that he's only just realizing that beneath Danny's special kind of pacifism there's a man who doesn't mind the risk because he needs find something out.

A hundred more questions pop into Steve's mind, but the one that slips out is, "What happened?"

Danny's head tilts to the side, his hand guiding more of his somewhat neglected oatmeal into his mouth, and after a some thought, shrugs.

"Not much. I told them I was a cop and wanted to know why my mom was singing about some man in a suit and who he was. They quite firmly asked that I not do anything stupid like talk about them anymore- after explaining what had happened with my mother, who'd predictably sensualized everything. At that point, I'd worn the same dress and boxers for four days, and the heels I'd decided I'd wear were broken on one side and hurt like nothing, so I told them I was fine with that, so long as they weren't going to do anything to my mom. I may have also said that if they ever had need of a Jersey cop, I was in their debt."

Steve's eyes narrowed.

"Neither Harold nor John recognized you when they-" He cuts himself off, but not before Danny's eyes narrow, too.

"Sent you my file after doing a bit of snooping?" Danny's voice is deceptively light against the darkness of his face. "I may have given them my former partner's name. He and I'd looked similar enough, and really, between the layers of dirt and makeup- which are essentially the same thing, when you think about it, something women seem dead set against doing- as well as the wig, Spanx- do not ask why I know the brand name- and shaving myself, I didn't look much like myself. Oh, and I'd been drinking and trying to talk like I was a woman from Montana- complete with unnecessary lisp and raspy voice as bonuses- so I don't think you can justly hold it against them."

A smile finds its way onto Steve's face.

"Spanx?"

"I said not to ask, McGarrett."

They lapse into silence. Steve thinks about what he's just learned as Danny contemplates his empty bowl with an expression eerily similar to the one Dog Danny had always given Steve after his breakfast had been eaten.

"What did you mean when you that you could remember being a dog, but not the way I was thinking?"

Danny sighs, mournfully pushing his bowl away.

"I meant that everything I experience as a dog is colored by the dog. I can remember, say, the Hilton, but as the building. I can remember it as the feeling of being overexposed, of the things I'd been able to smell, of the blood on the floor."

"So it's a collection of impressions, rather than an actual memory?"

"On a very literal, not-quite-there level, yeah."

"What am I missing, then?"

"It's hard to explain," Danny says, shaking his head. "It's the kind of thing you have to have been a dog to get."

Steve nods, figuring that if he'd never been a human, there'd be things he wouldn't be able to understand.

Then the big question finally reveals itself to him, and why it's taken so long, he doesn't want to know.

"How'd you become one, then? A... Half?"

The tooth-baring smile returns to Danny's face.

"If I told you, I'd have to tell the others."

"And?"

"What do you mean, 'And?'  _And_ you get torn apart by a bunch of wild dogs- or so the paper will say."

"That was a long way to avoid, 'If I told you, I'd have to kill you.'"

"But it was worth it, because there are only so many cliches a person can have in his life, and I much prefer to say, 'like moths to the flame.'"

Stave smiles at the vehemence in Danny's tone. There are only so many people a person can meet in his life before one of them flips everything else on its end.

"You still haven't explained it yet."

"What, the becoming a Half thing?"

"Exactly."

"Maybe I don't want to."

"You like to hear yourself talk to much not to want to."

For a moment, Steve is sure he'd crossed a line, only for Danny to start chuckling with genuine amusement.

"I guess they don't do so bad with you guys in the Navy, huh? The taxes my parents and I are paying aren't going to waste, are they?"

"No, they aren't. Now answer the question."

Danny grumbles to himself in a pitch too low for Steve to hear it, but he's sure it isn't anything complimentary.

"Listen to me for a minute, okay? I'm not avoiding this because of some clandestine promise or a threat to my family, all right? And I'm not just being secretive or too lazy to explain it. It's just that... There isn't a lot to tell."

"You're part dog, Danny. There's got to be something to tell."

"Now, yes, I am, but I wasn't born this way." He stops for a moment to give Steve a wary look. "And no Lady Gaga jokes, because I will not have her mentioned in my presence, you got that?"

"Yeah, I've got it. Will you get on with things?"

"That's all it is with you military types, just push push push, hurry hurry hurry. You ever smell a rose, Steven?"

"What? Yeah."

"Not a really spectacular scent, I've got to say, not when there's meat cooking and donuts instead."

"Or other dogs' asses. How do those smell, by the way?"

"Like tulips. I don't know; I've never done it."

"Never? You're lying."

"Actually, I just haven't felt the need. Tell you what, though, next time we go by one, I'll get down on my hands and knees and give it a go. How about that?"

"You're a pig."

"Correction: I'm _grumpy_ , since I'm still hungry."

"Here," Steve says, pushing his bowl across the small space between Danny and him, "take mine. I'll make another batch later."

Danny snatches it without argument, only to start eating it delicately.

"You smell good, you know," he mumbles, mouth not quite full enough to cover him.

"I what?"

"Smell good."

Blinking, Steve checks Danny's face for some sign of trickery or deceit, only to be met with the sight of slightly blushing cheeks and a ducked head.

"Do I really?"

"That's what I just said, genius. You want me to spell it out for you?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"I-t space o-u-t."

"All right, smartass, that's really funny. I'm dying over here."

"Mm, you might survive if you just bow to my comedic genius."

"Bite me."

"Don't tempt me," Danny warns, but the threat is empty. There's a small smile trying to make the corners of his lips twitch up, and it's winning.

"So you're really not going to tell me, then?"

"It's complicated, okay? I don't even remember most of it, just bits and pieces that don't make any sense."

"What about the tattoo? You have one, don't you?"

The look on Danny's face is surprisingly close to deer-in-the-headlights, but he shakes himself and loses it.

"Harold?"

"And John."

"Of course. You can't have one without the other."

"So?"

"You're a real pain in the ass, you know that?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Come on."

Danny hesitates but gets up anyway, turning his back to Steve and lifting the bottom of the towel enough for Steve to get a good look at the back of Danny's knee.

There it is, the wolf suckling a babe. It's surprisingly realistic, the wolf slender and grey, its expression maternal as it watches over the naked child, who can only be seen from behind, still attached to her nipple.

Steve barely stops himself from touching it, but the nervous set of Danny's face tells him that that's going too far.

"How long have you had it?" he asks to distract himself.

Danny shrugs as he returns to the chair.

"Time... doesn't flow for me the way it does for other people. If I had to give it a timeframe, maybe twelve years? It was near the time I graduated from the academy and had to choose a gang, I remember that."

"A gang? But the police-"

"Is filled with as much corruption as politicians. Lucky for me, the choice was easy; only two were willing to give me a chance: the Aryan Brotherhood- many thanks to my mother for that, and I mean that because I look like her, not because she's racist or anything, McGarrett, so don't you start thinking about improving society by offing her, because if you do I swear I'll do something stupid in return- and the Romans. Since the Romans were less likely to engage in bigotry and racial attacks, I went with them."

"And that's why you turn into a dog?"

"More like, 'And that's why you and a dog share a body,' but close enough."

"How the hell do you share a body?"

"Same way somebody with MPD does with alters. One's there and in charge, but the others are there, too, just not in control. Now, in my case, there's only one alter, and he's relatively happy to sit in the background and watch out for danger, but it's the principle of the thing: multiple personalities and appearances in one body."

"It's kind of extreme, though, isn't it?"

"No more so than someone with the disorder. At least I know I have some modicum of control when I'm the dog."

Steve sees right through that. No matter the way Danny shrugs it off, switching between a human and an animal is difficult for him, and there's no way the dog is just peacefully waiting his turn.

"But what about Kerring? I heard that his daughter grew up with the family dog..."

"That was me, yeah."

"For, what, eleven years?"

"I took a few breaks from dog life. Rachel liked to take Gracie on vacations, and Richard enjoyed seeing Rachel in her natural habitat. That left me free to be dropped off at the local veterinarian, who happened to be a Roman, too, so I got to have some time to be a human again."

"But why?"

Danny gives him a weird look then shakes his head.

"It was a family. I've always wanted one, but after joining the Romans, knew I couldn't have."

"Why's that?"

"I can't have kids anymore, so-"

"You're a eunuch? Did they seriously chop your-"

"No, they absolutely did not chop anything off. The whole, dog-human DNA thing doesn't result in very good stuff, though, okay? It's the same way with women; they can't get pregnant. But back to my original point: A, no kids, but I love kids and Grace was the closest thing to a kid I was going to get. B, the Romans aren't okay about just any partner. C, I'm- I was a cop, and the chances of me getting hurt or killed weren't ones I was willing to risk, not when a family needed me."

"All right, so you wanted a family."

Danny looks at him as if Steve had just said the least intelligent thing he'd ever heard.

"I really don't think you get what I'm saying, but yeah, I wanted a family. I also knew Richard's cousin, who was the one who recruited me, actually, if I can call it that. He got me a ticket to Hawai'i, a fake ID and some falsified credentials to work at HPD and told me to look after the guy, that that was going to be my main task, even above law enforcement."

"You've been working at HPD? How did I not-"

"Do you know ever single officer? Of course they kept me in the back, safe from scrutiny as a foreigner and a Roman."

"How'd you do it, then, be a cop and family pet?"

"Well, there was a doggy door, a young child with poor memory and a mother who was originally too busy finding objects she could use to kill me in case I attacked but eventually realized that I wasn't going to maul her or eat her child. Then Grace started going to school and I had plenty of time to do 'dog things' then and afterwards. Since my training officer and later my partner were part of the same 'gang,' I had more leeway than I would have otherwise."

"So Kerring knew?"

"What? No."

"So his cousin-"

"Who he thought was dead."

"Dead? How the hell-"

"Factory accident, thing blew up enough to incinerate anything and everything inside it. Albrecht was on duty, so he was presumed dead when nobody could find him."

"What was he doing? Surely he would've come forward."

Danny gives him another look that suggests he's devaluing Steve's intelligence.

"Do you realize the freedom that comes from not being legally alive? It's almost worth the risk. Also, he was in Italy."

"For a secret meeting?"

"A wedding, actually, but he'd just called in and claimed he'd had the flu."

"That's abusing the system."

"And?"

"Your morals are really free-flowing, aren't they?"

"Something like that."

"Back to Kerring- he never realized you weren't just a dog?"

"Would you, if I hadn't told you?"

Steve thinks about it and decides that no, he wouldn't have.

"Yeah, I didn't think so, grunt."

"Danny, those are the Marines."

"You both go in the water. What's the difference?"

"Only everything."

"Well, shit."

Another silence falls, and this time lasts long enough for Danny to finish Steve's bowl of oatmeal, still eating it as if he were a little girl at a tea party.

Then Steve gets another question.

"So you can tell people about being a dog, but you can't tell them how you became one?"

"Okay, no, I became a _Half,_ Steve. At least let me have the dignity of my affliction."

"Sure."

"You can be such a-"

"Careful, Danno, you don't want to risk sullying your reputation as a man whose mouth is as chaste as what's in his-"

"I will kill you and eat you," comes Danny's voice, this time speaking in a sing-song manner that is surprisingly chilling.

"Moving on..."

"To?"

"Moving onto why you can tell me that you're a Half-"

"Well done, McGarrett. I'm proud as a mother on-"

"Are you trying to distract me?"

"...Only slightly."

"Slightly trying or slightly distracting?"

"Both, actually."

"And why's that?"

"Because I don't know. I wasn't really supposed to tell you anything, but then I wound up switching last night in my sleep because even though I was in pain, I was comfortable, too. And my body needed to heal, which, yes, switching can help there, but it really hurts and messes with my head, so I don't like to do it."

"So if you get hurt, you can just... turn into a dog and be fine?" Steve asks, floored, but Danny shakes his head.

"It only works if I go from dog to human, actually, and no, I won't just be fine. Doctor Asano and Max did a good job with me, so switching wasn't as rough on me and my body was already healing correctly. All the switch does is hurry up any process already happening. If I'd been eating, I would've finished digesting. If I'd broken a bone, whatever position it was in- if it was a clean break or a compound fracture- then that's how it would be after the switch, only no longer 'broken,' but poorly set. Fractures that don't move the bone heal all right, as do cuts and things like that, so long as there isn't anything in them."

"So if your leg got blown off and you switched..."

"That came from a dark place, my friend. And I'd be pretty pissed off about it, because I wouldn't regrow the limb. Like I said earlier, we share a body. If one of us gets killed, so does the other, which is why this _cannot_ get to anyone involved with the military, because as soon as they hear 'quick healing,' they'll be off searching for the Romans and thinking that they can have ultimate, cosmic power-"

"Isn't that from _Aladdin?_ And I'm 'involved with the military,' Danny," Steve protests.

The Half flops a hand, dismissing Steve's assertion out of hand.

"Okay, yeah, I guess, if you want to be technical, you're involved in the military, but you're a- well, not a reasonable guy, but you're a decent one, you know?" Steve smiles at him because he knows that for Danny, that's the equivalent of saying he likes him. "And yes, it's from an animated movie from forever ago, but it was Grace's favorite, so we used to watch it all the time..."

The smile slides off Steve's face.

"You really miss her, don't you?"

"I know it's ridiculous, because I couldn't have stayed with them forever and I was just on assignment, but yeah, I really miss her."

Unsure- Danny could easily blow up in his face- Steve reaches out and tentatively takes Danny's left hand in his right and holds it. He holds his breath as Danny's face moves from misery to confusion to smiling slightly.

"You really weren't held enough as a kid, even if you did watch the right movies."

Smile jerking at his mouth, Steve ducks his head, only to realize what Danny's actually just said.

"Hey, I was held plenty!"

* * *

Steve winds up making one of his usual protein shakes instead of oatmeal, which makes Danny's nose wrinkle and prompts him to say, "Those things smelled rank before, but not any better now. At least then I could find something else to sniff."

Finishing the last gulp, Steve puts the glass down and gets to work on the dishes. Oatmeal sticks and becomes nearly impossible to get off, so he gets to work before it dries out completely.

As he fills the sink with water, he notices that Danny hasn't left and resumes their earlier discussion.

"Come on," he begins. "It can't be that bad."

Danny spends the next eight minutes filling Steve's head with nonsense and circular arguments, his expression saying that he knows exactly what he's saying and the effect it's having on Steve, who'd joined in at the three minute mark with a spluttered denial of Danny's accusation that he's trying be extra manly because he's got a small dick.

"What are you talking about? You've seen it!"

"To a dog, Steve, it looked a bit pathetic."

By the time the dishes are done, Steve is trying not to burst into laughter as Danny chortles with glee.

"You really messed up my routine, you know that?" Steve says as he drops onto the couch.

"No, your routine is messed up to begin with. What the hell are you thinking, swimming in shark-infested waters. You got a death wish, Steven? 'Cause if you do, I can think of a lot less painful ways to go. Or you could, you know, stick around, charm the ladies with that weird smile you have."

"What's wrong with my smile?"

"Your actual smile, nothing, but there's a weird one you get when you're trying to flirt. Don't get me wrong, it does seem to work, but it's kind of depressing," Danny replies, sitting on the floor by Steve's head, towel still wound around his waist.

"Depressing?"

"That's what the dog thought, yeah."

"Why is the dog analyzing my smiles?"

"How should I know? He analyzes everything he sees, but he's got a fixation on you, pal. I think it's the nose."

"My nose. What's wrong with _that_?"

"Nothing's _wrong_ with it. The dog just thinks he recognizes it, or something."

"I see... Does the dog have a name?"

"Why, you gonna take him out, have a lovely dinner?"

"Danny..."

"Fine, fine, yes, he has a name, but no, I'm not going to tell you."

Steve rolls onto his side, the better to glare at the back of Danny's head. Unthinking, he reaches out and runs a finger across the back of Danny's neck, messing with the tiny, tail-like point of hair there.

He's not sure why he'd done it and feels the familiar knot of worry forming in his gut, sure that Danny's going to tear into him, and there's nothing Steve can say to him. Danny doesn't protest, though; he sits in silence, seemingly waiting for Steve's response.

Pulling his hand back and deciding that if Danny hadn't felt it, he won't bring it up, Steve casts his mind back to the last thing Danny'd said.

"What's so special about it that you can't tell me?"

Danny snorts and shakes his head.

"There's a lot that's special about it, and I'm not sure you could deal with it."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Try me."

"You sure, Steve? It might get ugly?"

"It's a name. How ugly can it get?"

He shakes his head but turns around anyway, a knowing smile quirking his lips.

"This ugly."

With that, he throws his head back and makes a series of howls, sharp yaps and a single growl that despite lasting only a few seconds, sends Steve's brain into overstimulation territory, his ears getting flooded with the noises Danny's making.

Chest rising and falling heavily, Danny looks incredibly self-satisfied.

"What the hell was that?" is all Steve can manage in return.

"That? That was his name," comes the breathy but still somehow smug reply.

"I have never heard a dog make a noise like that in my entire life."

"Yeah, well, dogs aren't big on names."

"No?"

"They use them sometimes, but it's really humans who insist on introducing themselves. Once a dog has another's scent, there's no need for calling out their name."

"I guess that makes sense in a weird sort of way."

Danny shrugs, his chest no longer heaving.

"Speaking of the dog, hey, D?"

"Mmm?"

"How long are you going to be a human?"

"I don't really know. I hadn't really planned to be one now, so it's sort of until my body can return to the dog form, I suppose."

Steve feels himself frown.

"You can't just go back and forth?"

"Not if I don't want to give myself a seizure or serious brain damage. Being a Half is unnatural, so my body fights the switch."

"You could die?"

"A coma's more likely, but yeah. It happened once, a couple months after the initiation process and everything that followed. Nobody'd told me to watch out, that I couldn't just switch whenever I felt like it, so I wound up going back and forth so much I just blacked out and was apparently in a coma." He shakes his head. "I was lucky that it happened after switching from the dog. Some guys from another precinct found me on their way home and called an ambulance. Two months later, I woke up in the hospital with a wicked headache and a pissed off organization."

"Nobody said anything about your spontaneous coma?"

"Well, I'd hit my head on a rock, so everybody outside the Romans just figured I'd slipped and hit my head... which I had."

Taking in this new information, Steve thought about something he'd read in a book years ago.

"So do you keep clothes on, or...?"

"No, I'd left them out in the room of this pre-paid motel where I was staying, so when it was time to be Daniel Williams, NJPD, again, the dog and I just arranged ourselves in my clothing well enough for me to switch right into them."

"Then how'd you hit your head and get found by those guys?"

"It wasn't instantaneous. I managed to stumble down the stairs, but my vision was already going black by the time I'd gong down the stairs and it was only a matter of time before I was going to lose consciousness."

"So why didn't you call someone?"

"And say what? 'Hey, this is Danny. My vision's going black and I think I'm going to pass out. Here's my address; please come pick me up?' I didn't know that the switching was what had done me in. I thought I'd eaten something bad or been drugged."

Steve studies the back of the Half's head for a while, processing what he's just been told.

"You have a surprisingly clear memory of what happened before you went into a coma."

"Well, it wasn't as if I'd actually gotten hit on the head, now was it?"

He doesn't have a reply for that, so Steve stays quiet and returns to going through everything he's learned about Danny, analyzing the new information.

Another question is just beginning to take shape in his mind when he hears Danny's voice.

"It's disconcerting, unsettling and frightening."

"What is?"

"Switching. That's what you were thinking about just now, was it not?" Steve nods, unable to think of a reason to deny it. "One moment, I'm naked as I could ever want to be and running around on four legs, sniffing whatever, then the next I'll be standing- or lying, if I've thought that far ahead- stark naked on two legs. It takes a while for my brain to catch up, too, so I'll forget that standing naked in public isn't an acceptable thing. Hands are tricky, too, especially fingers, and it takes times to remember how to use them. And etiquette? No idea what that is. The same thing happens in reverse, too. Walking on four legs is difficult at first, and having a tail is not something you just get and understand. Then there are all of the unspoken dog rules to remember, which are a pain in the ass."

That explains Danny's earlier disregard for his lack of clothes, as well as the later appearance of the towel around his waist- probably the beginning of his readjustment- and sudden use of manners.

"So you never get used to it?"

Danny thinks for a moment before shaking his head. "It gets a little easier once you've done it a few times, but no, it's never something I do because it's fun. Some guys don't have as much trouble, but no matter what, it's unnatural, like getting somebody else's kidney or something and your body rejecting it, only not immediately dangerous."

"So what do you use it for?"

"Work, before. Then I had to come to Hawai'i to watch over Richard. Getting picked by him was a massive pain in the ass, though."

"Picked by him?"

"Yeah, he wanted to adopt from a shelter that saved animals who'd been in underground fighting rings."

"So you..."

"Found my way into one as an owner and a participant, yeah."

Steve gabs one of Danny's shoulders, gripping hard enough to pull an angry, "What the hell?" from him. More importantly, it gets Danny to look at him, which is how Steve sees past the cold front Danny's put up and takes notice of the way his eyes won't meet Steve's.

"Danny, those fights... They're their own kind of war," he says softly. "No one expects you not to leave with scars."

"I don't scar very much, to be honest," is the Danny's dry reply.

"That's not what I meant and you know it. Don't pretend it's nothing when it isn't."

Steve immediately finds himself tossed onto his back, Danny's face above his, the blond's soft features twisted in anger.

"It's not nothing, huh? What about those ops you pulled? What about just being a soldier and getting shot at? When somebody calls you a hero, says you're incredible for being a SEAL, how do you always respond, Steve?" Danny doesn't wait for an answer. "You say it's your duty and that you did it. Well, I was doing what I was told to do, and that's it. Don't try to play with me when you're even more messed up, Mr. A.J. Squared Away."

"Mr. A.J. Squared Away? That's quite formal for an insult, Danny, and I didn't know you had any familiarity with Navy talk."

It isn't the best response and he knows it, but something about the way Danny's entire body had been on edge had done something to Steve's brain. The entire thing had had a momentary lapse, and the next thing he'd known, his mouth had been open with snark falling out.

Knowing that doesn't mean Danny does. The look on his face is enough to confirm that. His eyes are narrowed enough that all Steve can see are his lashes, the blue completely hidden, and his lips are pressed together between his teeth. A tension runs from the wave of hair on his head down the length of his body, each muscle constricted, on the verge of either rupturing or snapping.

Instead, Danny's body loses its tension. He just takes a single breath, and on the exhale, the tension leaves. In its wake is a looseness similar to a body, unconscious or dead, as he slides back to the ground.

Then the corners of his lips pull up.

"My brother's best friend was a SEAL whose main goal in life was scaring us and getting us to speak like Navy boys, so yeah, I know a bit about Navy talk."

"You have a brother?"

"Four, actually, since Hal doesn't count."

"Who's Hal?"

"My youngest brother, real pain in the ass."

"And that's enough for him not to be in the family."

"He also went into fetish porn."

Thrown, all Steve can think to say is, "Oh."

Suddenly no longer just a pulling of the lips, Danny's smile explodes, his entire face lighting up.

"I was kidding, Steve. He's actually a builder who works with Habitat for Humanity."

"Then... why doesn't he count?"

"Why? 'Cause he's a freaky son of a bitch."

Steve blinks, unable to come up with an adequate response.

"Look," Danny says, rubbing a hand across his face as his smile disappears, "back to what we were discussing earlier, I did what I had to do. It wasn't pleasant, but I had my orders and I followed them. That's all that matters."

"Danno..."

"No, don't 'Danno,' me. I may not have been a SEAL, but I know about duty and service, so don't you-"

Having sensed that Danny had been working himself up, Steve is already prepared to throw himself up and grab Danny's shoulders. He looks the man- because that's what Danny really is, not a Half or a dog- in eye and doesn't let his gaze waver, not even when Danny looks away.

"I get it, D. I get that you think you failed Kerring, but there's no way you could have prevented the divorce or the death of his son. None of it's your fault; you kept that family together. I heard the way that little girl was talking about you. You could've been the Hunchback of Notre Dame and she still would've idolized you."

"What about Richard and his cousin?" Danny mumbles.

"You can only do so much," he replies.

The short man snorts, his head still facing the ground, but he doesn't struggle against Steve's hold.

"Sorry. I'm a bit oversensitive, you know?"

"Pigs in a bucket, fuck it."

Danny's genuinely happy laughter bubbles up at that.

"You are an animal, you know that?"

"Wha- I am not!"

"Maybe 'caveman' would suit you better? No one civilized just swings fuck around like that."

After giving Danny a suitably long and discomfiting stare- which doesn't work, unfortunately- Steve lets himself smile, even guffaws slightly when Danny, trying to haul himself to his feat, ends up falling back to the floor- though not without his legs slipping apart, the towel flapping open and Steve catching another glimpse of everything beneath it.

Steve's imagination can be far too vivid for his own good.

"I don't know what your plans are for the day-"

"Sleeping, sleeping and, oh, more sleeping."

"-but I'm going for a swim," Steve finishes, having heard but ignored Danny's interruption.

Danny smiles, but his face is tired, as though a weight had suddenly been placed upon his shoulders.

"Get some sleep, Danno. I'll be back soon."

* * *

After a longer-than-usual swim, most of which had been spent in contemplation of Danny, Steve returns to the house and heads upstairs to shower, but before he gets to the bathroom, he spots the other man asleep in Steve's bed, body curled into a tight ball.

It's a sweet sight at first, Danny asleep, but a few guilt-inducing moments of study lead Steve to a different emotion. In the past, Danny had slept with his body splayed out, taking up as much room as possible for an animal that hadn't actually been that big. Now, however, Danny's as small as he can be, as though he's trying to disappear.

Unsure of how to proceed, Steve quietly makes his way to the shower and gets clean, though he's sure to grab some clothes before he goes in.

After the shower, he's at a loss. Danny's still asleep in his bed, but Steve hasn't swum so far- hasn't swum at all since before the last case- and is wiped out.

He's weighing the pros and cons of bed next to Danny and bed anywhere else when the man solves the dilemma for him.

"If you aren't going to sleep here, then I'll just stretch out as much as I want."

Smiling fondly, Steve slides into bed just as the exercise and warm water catch up to him.

* * *

_He wakes in the middle of the night to feeling of an arm thrown over his waist and a hand slowly sliding down his belly, then catching on his boxers and pulling them down._

_Blinking, Steve cranes his head, but the weight of the man- he knows he's a man because he can feel something pressing against the back of his thigh- behind him keeps Steve from turning over enough to see him properly. All he catches is something yellow, but it's enough for him to figure out who it is._

_"Danno? What are you-?"_

_The hand not currently keeping him exposed sneaks up and presses a finger to his lips, which is how he knows that this is a dream. He's had it coutnless times in the past, more than enough for him to know exactly how this is going to end._

_...not that that information makes getting there any less exciting._

_The hand on Steve's boxers finishes dragging them to his knees, then takes its time moving up his thigh, brushing against the hair there and making him quiver, only to slip back down when it gets near his cock._

_He hasn't figured out whether to urge it forward- thinking about the hand as something separate from Danny's the only thing keeping him from having a_ moment _\- or to enjoy the slow, torturous glide of the hand as it gets closer and closer, a hairsbreath away, then sweeps away, leaving him to groan and wriggle._

_Then the dream veers off course._

_Instead of going one more circuit, then taking hold of him, the hand comes to rest on his hip, and he feels Danny's head fall forward, a smile pressing into the back of Steve's neck._

_"D?" he asks around the finger, forgetting to think of this as just between the hand and him._

_He doesn't get a reply- never has- at least not verbally._

_Danny chooses to stop teasing him by runninging his hand up Steve's leg and grabbing the head of his cock, hand large and warm as he circles it, gathering the slick, milky liquid at the top. He doesn't stop when Steve makes a worried noise, just strokes up down the long, thin shaft. There are strange calluses on his hand, rough spots on his palm beneath each finger that Steve's brain can't quite figure out how he'd gotten; he's too busy trying not to feel guilty about this. The real Danny will never know, but Steve will. It will eat at him slowly, because the knowledge of the dreams he'd had before he'd known they were about him have already been making a cruel knot in his gut. This, though, will be the last twig in the guilt-bird's nest._

_Then the finger on his mouth rubs across his lower lip and Danny whispers something against the back of his neck, hand speeding up, and Steve spills with a tiny whimper._

* * *

Jolting into wakefulness, Steve becomes aware of a few things at once.

The first is that he and Danny are back to back instead of back to chest. Danny's also asleep, making tiny noises that Steve recognizes as small whines when Danny's legs twitch, one of which twitches hard enough to kick Steve in the back of the knee.

Finally, Steve's brain takes note- with a mixture of triumph and guilt- that he's hard, but since he hadn't actually gotten off, he decides to put off any mental castigation in favor of exercise- once he's taken care of a few things.

* * *

His phone rings at five in the morning, just as he's coming back inside after a run.

"Kono?" he asks, looking at the caller I.D.

_"Yeah, it's me. We figured you'd want to look after Danny, but we just caught a case from HPD and it's a big one. Somebody shot up a safe house for battered women and children then literally hacked at the staff. Twelve dead, six in critical condition, another seven with bullet wounds that either weren't fatal or in dangerous areas. No witnesses or anything so far. I wouldn't have called if I didn't-"_

"No, I'm glad you did. I'll be right there."

* * *

Danny had been awake and somehow heard the conversation, so he'd already snatched up all of Steve's sheets. He'd even mumbled something about early mornings requiring caffeine and some of whatever Steve had made for breakfast.

Grinning at Danny's mussed state, Steve had almost missed the quiet, "Be careful, will you? Kono's too willing to let you have your way, Lori's afraid of getting in trouble and Chin seems to think you'll learn your lesson after getting shot."

"I'll do what I can, Danno," he'd returned, sure that any false assurances would just get him in trouble.

The team asks after their fifth member, of course, as do Max and Fong when they pass on their findings, which are preliminary but do give an indication of the type of killer- not a genuine psychopath, according to Lori, judging by the amount of rage expressed by the perp- Five-0's got to locate. Even Gabrielle calls, asking about Danny's condition, which is harder to fake but not impossible.

Now that he's at work, tracking leads and checking allibies, he realizes that he'd begun to rely on Danny more than he'd thought. He's constantly turning to check where the dog should be and barely catches himself before he calls for him. The lack of nails scratching and nose snuffling, both sounds he'd asked Danny to try to mask to avail- is distracting, and he suddenly finds himself having to restrain his anger, something he hadn't had to worry about with Danny around. Either Danny had beaten him to the outburst, or he'd have some part of Steve in his mouth- usually a hand or a finger, but he hadn't been averse to ankles or grabbing Steve's shoe and pulling.

It's a long day that ends only because Chin insists on it. There's such a long list of angry lawyers and an even longer list of suspects they need to sure they go about this the right way. One wrong slip and the jury might not think their information is legitimate.

There's nothing more frustrating than the man's logic, especially when there's nothing he can do to get around it, so Steve's glad to get home and smell food.

"Honey, I'm home!" he calls, laughing when Danny shouts back that if Steve wants food, he'll watch his mouth.

Why it takes him until the meal's half done to realize that Danny's being extra mouthy, almost confrontational, he isn't sure, but it doesn't require much thought to realize why. Danny was a cop and now a part of the taskforce; he understands that the last thing Steve wants right now is quiet time to think about things he can't help. Arguing with each other will let off some of the pent up anger Steve has, and he can see that Danny's taking the initiative here and not giving him the chance to get too far into his head.

That night, Steve finds that rather than chomping at the bit and wishing he could make the sun move faster, the way he usually is, he's calmly prepared to go out the next day and find the person who could nearly butcher a bunch of innocent people in cold blood.

* * *

Another three days and two dreams later, even arguing with Danny can barely take the edge off the sense that some other horrific incident is going to happen soon. There have been two more attacks since the first. The second was in another shelter for women and children, but the third had broken pattern, as the attacker had gone for an adoption agency. More people have been killed, a few maimed to varying degrees, but all the survivors have been traumatized for a long time to come.

Maybe that's what prompts him to break their silent one a.m. dinner, or maybe it's that he's finally remembered that Danny works in the field and that being stuck in the house, healthy as he can be, is taking its toll on him (Steve can see the dark rings under his eyes that broadcast how much sleep Danny isn't getting, as well as the increase in dirty running clothes- all Steve's because neither has bothered to go shopping.

Either way, Steve had meant to open his mouth for more macaroni and cheese, something that Danny had somehow managed to prepare the same way his mother had, but finds himself talking instead.

"Thank you."

Danny blinks at him.

"For what?"

"You know... being here, for cooking and arguing with me."

"Right." Danny doesn't sound convinced, but he's going with it, which is all Steve can ask. "You're welcome, then."

If he hadn't added the last bit, Steve wouldn't have picked up on it. As it stands, though, Steve has noticed it, the strange, almost guilty tone. Danny's hiding something.

"What's going on, Danno?"

"Nothing." The reply is too quick, too innocent. There's definitely something going on.

"Come on; you can trust me."

"I know that. Don't you think I know that?"

"Stop trying to deflect. What's going on?"

"There's nothing going on. Why does there have to be something going on? There isn't."

Steve eyes the man next to him for a moment, then makes a decision he isn't entirely sure will end well. Of all the ideas he has, it has the lowest likelihood for failure, about fifty-fifty.

Watching Danny carefully, Steve leaps to his feet and grabs him, even manages to hold on as Danny thrashes and shouts at him. It isn't easy, which means that he has to tighten his grip and is risking the tipping of the scales in favor of failure.

"Danno, stop-"

"No, you! What hell, Steve? You can't just- just pick me up like I'm a kid or an animal, damn it!"

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have lied to me."

"I'm not- oof!"

Steve, who'd been walking up the stairs, tosses Danny onto their bed. He doesn't do it with extra force, but he doesn't need to. Danny's distaste for having his feet off the ground and gravity are sufficient.

"Yes, you are, and I want to know why."

"Steve, I really-"

"Please?"

Danny shakes his head.

"I really can't tell you."

"Why?"

"Because it's something I'm doing on my own!"

"You can't go off on your own, Danny!"

"Why's that? Because it's your thing? Or is it because I'm small and fragile? Maybe something else? Do you not think I can do my job, Steve? Is that it, huh?"

"You can't seriously-"

"I can seriously whatever I want."

The set of Danny's face says that he isn't being petty. Whatever he's doing, it's important to him.

"Fine."

"No, see, this is not fine. You're just saying that."

"And if I am?"

"That depends."

"On?"

"What are you planning, Steve?"

"Nothing."

"That's a load of crap. Try again."

Steve isn't sure how or why Danny's the one asking the questions, but something he's learned about him is that when Danny starts talking when he's upset, he'll eventually tell you what you want to know. It just takes time.

"Maybe I just-"

"Stop with the maybes. You work with absolutes, so talk with them."

"Okay, fine. How about this? I'm going to go through your things, whether you want me to or not."

Danny shrugs, uninterested.

"Go ahead. Search away, my friend. Tell me if you find anything."

"I will."

* * *

More than two hours have passed, but Steve still hasn't found anything that would explain Danny's odd behavior. He'd gotten frustrated after the first hour, and now he's pacing, searching wildly while the other man lies on the bed and fiddles with Steve's phone. How he'd gotten it, Steve isn't sure, but Danny doesn't seem to be looking for anything in particular, just keeps sliding his thumb across the screen- which is when it clicks.

"Danno..."

"Yes, Steven?"

"There's one place I haven't checked."

"And what might that be?"

"You."

Danny looks up, startled, just in time to see Steve fly at him. He doesn't have enough time to escape Steve, and he can't outrun him in the house, so Steve's sure he's got him cornered.

Instead, Danny hunches over, and waits until Steve's close enough for him to be within range and throws a punch that catches Steve on the cheek hard enough to make his vision rattle.

With Steve momentarily stunned, Danny takes advantage of the distraction and gets away.

Once he's recovered, Steve springs to life, running to the door and listening for the telltale sounds of Danny's presence.

It takes a while for him to realize that it isn't Danny suddenly being quiet but an absence of him that's left the house silent, but once he's figured it out, Steve is immediately in motion, racing down the stairs and to the front door, knowing Danny well enough to put the beach from his mind since he doesn't like it. As he looks out the door, though, there's no man nor sign of man in sight.

Steve wanders down the steet for a few minutes, sure he won't find Danny but searching nonetheless.

When sleep finally comes, Steve's dreams are haunted by the voice of a person speaking over the radio.

_"Radio Waikiki Five Zero... No answer Waikiki Five Zero. Waikiki Five Zero out of service. Seven five seven six, you are not forgotten."_

* * *

Danny still hasn't come back the morning, but he's an adult and can take care of himself, even if he is a mainlander who couldn't look less native if he tried and doesn't speak any pidgin or even try to absorb any of the culture.

Steve's just made it into work when the transcript of a call to HPD gets sent to them.

At first, no one's sure why they have it. It's odd, true, the man having called in about a bunch of dogs crashing his neighbor across the road's front gate and making a great deal of noise. Then the man repeats his address and it clicks. He lives just down the road from the first shelter that had been attacked.

Barely three minutes have passed from the recitation of the address to Five-0's members jumping into their cars, sirens screeching as they make their way to what Steve has a feeling is what Danny had been keeping from him.

* * *

Half an hour later, they arrive at the front door to a house belonging to a woman named Kimberly Zheng, licensed acupuncturist and expert in Chinese medicine, only to find that it's already been smashed open, having been hit in the middle until caving.

"Miss Zheng, this is Steve McGarrett of Five-0, the governor's taskforce!"

If she hears them, the woman doesn't respond.

"Miss Zheng, can you hear me?" Steve tries again, but again receives no answer.

Signalling for Chin and Lori to follow, Steve and Kono jump through the hole, prepared to take on any dog who comes at them, only to find, upon investigation, that the entirety of the floor is completely empty.

When Lori holds up her hand in the middle of the team's discussion of what to do next, however, they hear scratching noises coming from the ceiling, as well as barking, after a few moments.

They're searching for stairs when suddenly the section of the ceiling, disguised by a large ceiling fan, drops almost to the floor, revealing a flight of stairs with a large-eyed chihuahua sitting at the bottom.

With a sharp bark, it nods to the stairs, its plumed tail twitching, which the team takes as a, "Come on, then," and heads up, Steve in the lead, followed by Lori and Chin, Kono heading up the back.

The first thing they notice is that the neighbor hadn't been exaggerating. There are more than fourteen dogs of varying ages and sizes, all silently watching a woman as she huddles in the corner.

"What the hell?" Lori asks, but the others are too busy trying to make their own sense of the scene to answer.

The dogs' attention remains fixed on the woman, even when Chin slowly starts to make his way to her, but the moment his body blocks any of their views of her, the ensuing cacaphony of barking, yapping and growling makes the entire team jump. None of the dogs makes a move, though; they just watch Chin with wary skepticism.

"Are you all right?" he asks Zheng upon reaching her.

"Y-yes, but-"

Then Danny appears from nowhere, gun clutched in his large jaws, and all hell breaks loose.

* * *

Scattering the moment Danny appears, the dogs rush at the four people by the stairs with enough force to make Chin and Steve wobble and Kono and Lori struggle not to fall flat on their backs. Then Steve recognizes the gun, a forty five caliber pistol, in Danny's mouth as a match for the one Max had declared as one of the murder weapons and catches Danny's eye. There's something almost frustrated in Danny's face, but before Steve can figure out why he'd be frustrated, something flashes across the room and lands in Danny's leg, causing him to drop the gun.

Zheng, having been forgotten, dashes to his side and grabs the gun, immediately whirling and training it on Lori, who'd wound up the closest.

With that, everything falls into place for every member of Five-0.

"Miss Zheng," Lori tries, her voice as calm as Steve's ever heard it, "please put the gun down."

"That's not really possible, now is it?" comes the equally calm response.

"Of course it is. You can just lower it and-"

"What? We'll talk? Hardly. Nobody's leaving here unless we're in body bags."

Lori pauses, thinking.

"So there's no way to convince you not to shoot anyone?"

"More like everyone, but no, you're right. There isn't."

"Well, I'd rather not keep my gun pointed at you, so I'm going to put it down, if you're going to shoot me anyway. Could you explain why, though, if I'm just going to die anyway? Why-"

"Did I shoot those poor people?"

Lori nods, her sight still locked on the pistol.

"Well, I'll start by saying that they aren't poor. They've got- well, they had- their lives, which is more than I was allowed. They said they're a safe place for us, that if ever we're in trouble, women and, if we have them, children can there and be safe."

"So they didn't keep you safe. Is that why you shot them?"

Zheng shakes her head.

"No, no, they kept me perfectly safe. My son, though? They kicked him out."

"That doesn't sound like-"

"Apparently, because he was sixteen and big for his age, some of the other women complained. They said that he would do the same thing his father did, that they didn't feel safe around him. As though that's room enough to kick someone out!"

"It was for them, wasn't it? They made your son leave."

A cold half-smile lifts the left side of the Chinawoman's face just before she whips her gun to the left and unloads a round into the wall by Kono's head. Only Chin, having read the woman's intent in the twitch of muscles, shooting a hand out and throwing her to the floor saves her.

"Oh, no, that- that would have still given him a chance," Zheng continues, speaking as though she hadn't just shot at someone. What they did was call my husband and demand that he pick my boy up! Well, of course he did. Why wouldn't he? Dai was a good boy, and his father loved him, even when he hit him!"

"And those other places? The other shelter and the adoption agency?"

"Different shelters, same attitude. They all think that boys who are big and strong with cruel fathers will become the same type of monster. Dai wouldn't have, though. He never got the chance to show them, because dead boys don't disprove things."

"What about the adoption agency? What did they-"

"They sent me an e-mail, asking if I'd like to adopt a little boy!"

"Was it addressed directly to you? Did it say anything about Dai, what happened, or-"

"It didn't have to! I knew what they were saying. I knew that they were trying to guilt me into becoming a mother because I'd failed the first time, but I didn't! I didn't fail Dai; those other people-"

The rest of her sentence is lost to them, because Danny, knife still imbedded in his flesh, launches himself at her arm, catching the wrist holding the gun between his teeth, barely clearing Lori's sights before the profiler's arm swings her gun back up and unhesitatingly puts a round into Zheng's hip.

"Kimberly Zheng," she declares, walking over, "you are under arrest for the murders and attempted murders of the staffs of Lone Ocean Shelter, Freedom Shelter and the Honolulu Adoption Center. Added to these charges are those of reckless endangerment of children, assault, assault with a deadly weapon and grevious bodily harm-" she casts a look to Danny- "as well as assaulting a police officer and whatever other charges we can think of. You have the right to remain silent, as anything you say can and may be used against you. You also have..."

Steve listens to Lori with half an ear, glad he'd caught her signal to let her handle things but is currently more concerned with getting to Danny so he can check the extent of the knife wound.

He finds the man still in his dog form. The wound is deep and has cut through several layers of muscle but doesn't seem to have touched anything vital. As he looks Danny over, he does notice something baffling, though. The burns and other wounds Danny had said had healed, that Steve hadn't seen on his body, have returned, looking only slightly better.

"You and I are going to talk, Danny, but for now, I'll settle for taking you to Doctor Asano again- if she'll look at you."

* * *

After checking with the rest of the team, all of whom had wanted to check on Danny themselves, Steve passes out orders for the others to book Zheng. After that, the day is theirs; paperwork can wait until the next day. It's a shallow order, though, and he knows it. Everyone's going to wind up wherever he and Danny are, first to reassure themselves that Danny's definitely going to be all right, and second for the post-case party they've all been wishing could be underway. Having Zheng locked up, even if just to await trial, will be the best thing for them.

Danny is conspicuously quiet through the checking-over and order-giving, but Steve isn't in the mood to talk to him. Of the two of them, Danny's supposed to be the one who checks and double checks everything, who goes by the book, but this, whatever this had been, has completely trampled that.

Steve's also feeling sick at the idea of the knife imbedding itself in Danny's gut or his heart. His mind is more than willing to conjure the images of Danny's intenstines falling out, blood gushing from his chest, the look on his face as he dies-

From nowhere, there's a familiar pressure on his hand, and when Steve looks over, Danny's looking at him with an anguished expression.

"This you saying sorry?"

Danny makes a low sound, almost like a grumble.

"I'll accept it for now, but we're still having that conversation once you've been seen. Now, though, I've got to call Max to see if he can contact the doctor."

* * *

Max manages to get in contact with Gabrielle, who's still willing to look over Danny's newest injuries. She even offers to be Danny's vet for as long as they have need of her, to which Steve agrees as soon as Max brings it up.

This visit takes closer to an hour and a half, and when he comes out this time, Danny's fur is in worse disarray than the first time. He also struggles to walk straight and continually yawns and falls asleep at Steve's feet.

Chin and Lori, who'd come over as soon as they'd been able, leaving Kono to set up on her own, stand watch- a term Steve uses loosely, as Lori squats down and rubs Danny's head while Chin stands to the side and chuckles at the way Danny's tiny tail wags just enough to keep unseating him- while Steve talks to Max and Gabrielle.

"He's very lucky it went into his shoulder. With a body like his, it isn't far from that to something important," Gabby says, watching Danny fondly.

"So he'll be all right?"

"If he doesn't do too much running or knock into too much. We put him under while we worked on stitching the wound and disinfecting it. He kept getting away and trying to hide, though, so it took longer than we'd hoped."

"What about his older injuries, the burns and cuts?"

"Those are progressing nicely," Max answers. "I'm surprised, actually. It's only been a little while, but he's healing remarkably quickly, especially given the severity and placement of the wounds."

Finally satisfied that Danny's going to be all right, Steve thanks them and asks if they'd like to join the team for celebratory drinks. Max declines as he has an autopsy for HPD he's supposed to have been doing right now and needs to get back to the lab. The doctor gives it some thought and says that she can spare an hour or so for her favorite patient- "Really, he's incredibly well behaved! I wish my other patients were as good-" and hitches a ride with Lori.

* * *

Drinks go well- Kono having chosen some beers and only one bottle of her favorite snake wine- full of conversation about things from the silliest thing they've seen a mainlander willing wear to the most painful wound they've ever received- or attended, as Gabrielle's own worst was a splinter in her toe but has seen animals with crazier injuries than even the people have had.

In the end, everyone leaves in cabs after promising to find their way back later the next day to collect their cars.

Once they're gone, Steve heads to bed, knowing he's going to find Danny already asleep there, and true to form, Danny, who's still a dog, is out cold, stretched out as much as his doggy frame will allow.

Not cruel enough to wake him up and ready to head to bed himself, Steve leaves their conversation for the next day.

* * *

Steve wakes before Danny- who'd switched sometime during the night, so Steve won't have to worry about having the "What the hell is wrong with you?" conversation with a dog- just as the sun's clearing the horizon, and since Danny's giving no indication of waking any time soon, he heads downstairs and makes breakfast- egg white omelette for him, bacon and eggs for Danny, which can also be used to bribe and/or punish him.

Back in the room, he finds that Danny's still asleep, so he sets the food down far enough away that Danny won't be able to grab it and goes to take a shower.

As he's getting out, though, he discovers that he'd forgotten to grab his clothes. Armed with the knowledge that Danny waking up, especially first thing in the morning, is a loud process, Steve is gratified to hear that there's no sound coming from the next room.

Once he's returned to the bedroom, however, he finds that Danny's awake and wiping his eyes with his heels of his hands. The look he gives Steve is almost childlike in the simplicity of the way it broadcasts, "just woke up." He keeps blinking and squinting, even as he tries to track Steve as he pads around the room, collecting clothing.

"Mm... 'ere're you going?"

Steve stops, halfway to the door.

"I was going to get dressed, Danny. That's what people do. We put clothes on."

He gets a bleary scowl in return.

"But where? In the hallway? I've seen you naked more times than anyone else at this point, even more than your buddies back in the military. Just because I look human now doesn't mean I see any more." Danny ponders that for moment, then continues, "If anything, I see less. People's eyesight is horrible."

"So, what? You want me to just drop my towel and get on with it?"

"Well, you could say, 'Hey, Danny, I just need to put clothes on. Would you mind?' Then I'd say, 'No, Steve, I don't mind. Go ahead. Thank you for asking.' That's what people do. We talk to each other."

Steve sighs, already aware that whatever they're really discussing- because it isn't his getting dressed and he's pretty sure it isn't the conversation he'd promised they'd have- has been decided and that whatever that is, Danny's mind isn't going to change.

"Fine. Hey, Danny, I just finished my shower and need to get dressed. Would that be okay with you?"

Danny pauses, adopting an overdramatic expression of thoughtfulness.

"Why yes, Steven, that would be fine."

Despite knowing that Danny's seen him naked before, that he really has seen Steve naked more than anyone else, Steve can't help but feel uncomfortable. It's as though Danny's mentally grading him but not telling him on what or why. It might just be the weight of Danny's gaze, or the creeping suspicion that he's comparing Steve's body while he has human eyes to what he'd seen with dog ones, but whatever it is has him feeling self-conscious.

Once he's dressed and has a barrier between Danny's sharp gaze and his body, Steve turns back to him, only to find that Danny's gaze has become soft in the way that children's do just before they fall asleep.

"Well? What's the plan, Batman?" Danny mumbles around a bit of bacon Steve hadn't seen him grab. The whole plate is on Danny's lap, but the man seems too tired to do much but slowly munch.

Steve shrugs and says, "I hadn't really thought about it."

"That, Steven, is a lie. You've thought about it, just like you think about everything- not always enough, but you do think about them."

Whatever response Steve had been about to give to being called on his lie is cut off by the rest of what Danny says. For all the time they've spent together, Danny hasn't praised him often. He's teased Steve, had his back and kept him company when he's gotten hurt, but other than a few soft noises that Steve's pretty sure had been the dog equivalent praise and a few backhanded compliments, he's never gone out of his way to say anything commend him. Admittedly, Danny'd usually been too busy trying not to get killed to be kind, but even after whatever situation into which Steve had gotten them had finished, Danny'd never done anything to show he'd approved of anything Steve had done.

Right now, though, Danny's got an open look on his face as he snuggles into Steve's bed.

"Danno," Steve tries, but is cut off by Danny himself this time.

"You're smart, aren't you? It's easy to forget that you aren't just..." Danny flaps a hand in Steve's direction. "They don't let morons into the SEALs, do they? I hope they don't. Weaponizing the guy who licks metal poles in the middle of winter? That's a bad idea, which is probably why they don't do that. They pick guys like you." His face turns pensive. "You're good company, too, actually. I'd thought I'd just deal with living with you until I found somewhere else, but for whatever reason, I liked you. And you know what's the craziest thing? I still do. Even after getting my back burned and grazed by bullets, I don't hate you. In fact, I want you to be happy, so I'd always try to make you smile." Danny's voice is slurred at this point, the words not forming well in the face of how tired he looks. "I like your smile, Steve. You should smile more; you usually look like you're going to have an aneurysm."

All Steve manages to do is stare at Danny's face for the final seconds before the blond falls back asleep, snuffling into the pillow he'd commandeered at some point. He watches Danny's sleeping form for longer than he knows is socially acceptable, but his brain is having trouble digesting what he'd just heard.

He does eventually manage to pry himself from the sight of Danny, half-asleep and mumbling more praise in three minutes than Steve's gotten in almost twenty years, and makes his way downstairs, where he pops a DVD- he has no idea which one- and flops onto the couch for further contemplation with a background of... _Varsity Blues_.

The couch isn't very comfortable, though, so once the DVD's finished, he decides to walk to the beach. It's always been a place where his thoughts come most freely, so he heads there without a second thought, just slowly walks across the grass and the sand until he comes across a place that's near the water but not so near he winds up getting wet.

After the first few minutes, he loses track of time, and it isn't until Danny plops onto the sand beside him that he gets a good look at the sky and realizes it's nearly dark.

The look on Danny's face says he's prepared for their talk, so Steve jumps right in.

"What the hell were you thinking? You could've been killed yesterday. I thought you knew better, Danny; I really did. What if we hadn't gotten a call from Zheng's neighbor about the mob of dogs you comandeered? Did they know what they were getting into? Did _you_? You're always getting angry with me for doing things like that, for going in on my own, but I've been trained. I spent years of my life doing things like setting explosions and knowing when to run and where, but you haven't. It wasn't even like you did something impulsive like throw yourself in front of a bullet. Organizing people, or dogs, takes time and effort, which you definitely put in. So here's what I want to know, Danno. _How the hell do you get off yelling at me for doing something I've been trained to do, then run off and do something as stupid as raid the house of a homicidal maniac?"_

Danny doesn't reply for a long time, just sits next to Steve and contemplates the sky, but Steve doesn't rush him. He knows that Danny's more given to thinking as he speaks and that sometimes the first things that come out his mouth aren't what he's really thinking, and now isn't one of the times when Steve's prepared to sift through the rush of words for what Danny actually means.

When he finally breaks his silence, Danny's explanation is uncharacteristically concise.

"I'm sorry. That wasn't supposed to happen. I'd just been gathering information from some of the dogs on the street when I found out yesterday that they'd gotten together with this insane plan to force her to admit what she'd done. Dogs aren't good planners, though, and they had no idea what they'd do once they were in, so I went with them in case I could prevent anyone from getting hurt."

Not the reply he'd been expecting- it's shorter than what Steve himself had said- he just blinks at Danny.

"Danno, I didn't-" he breaks off.

"You didn't what? Know that I'd had a plan? I didn't really have one, not beyond keeping everyone alive. Getting the gun was something I did because it seemed like the kind of thing you'd do." Danny pauses for a moment, again pondering the sky. "I thought about switching, but I'd already done it a few times lately and I could tell that if I did it, I'd just black out, which wouldn't help anyone."

"I'm sorry you were in that position. If I'd known..."

"Yeah, well, I'm sorry I couldn't keep a few dogs in line. There's not much more you could have done, short of getting Animal Control to fire a flash grenade or whatever they use for animals into the house, but I'm kind of selfishly glad you didn't. Smoke bombs and flash grenades hurt a lot more when you're a dog."

"That sounds like it's coming from experience..."

Danny snorts.

"It might just be."

"That reminds me. What happened to all the old wounds you had? I thought they'd healed."

"It's complicated, like everything else. I guess the easiest explanation is that if I switch back to being human, the wounds heal more quickly, but only when I'm human. As a dog, the increased speed isn't as real."

"So you don't really heal faster?"

"I do if I don't suddenly need to switch, which I've told you I don't like doing anyway."

"All right, so where does that leave you now?"

One of Danny's feet buries itself in the sand.

"I don't know; I never do. I'll probably need a month or so of only being human and a few weeks of switching occasionally."

Nodding, Steve notices the little tail of hair on the back of Danny's neck. He resolutely doesn't touch it.

"I'm sorry you got hurt, Danny. You know that, ri-"

"Of course I know it, you goof. I don't like it, but it's better than one of you guys who can't heal quickly getting knifed. Besides, this gave Weston the chance she's been needing to prove to herself she belongs here."

"She doesn't need to- How do you know that?"

"I fell asleep under her desk a few times since she's got a small carpet under it that's more comfortable than your couch. She didn't kick me out and wound up falling asleep. As it turns out, she talks in her sleep- kind of like you- and may have mentioned a crush and apologized more times than I wanted to count. And she wasn't proving it to you or the others; she was proving it to herself."

"Hey, I do not talk in my sleep!" Steve objects.

"Sorry, babe, but you do. And why is that all you've taken from what I said?"

"No, I don't. What am I supposed to say? Yes, Lori and I have spoken. Yes, she told me. No, I wasn't going to transfer her out because of something like that, not when it hasn't affected her work."

"All right, see, yes, you do talk in your sleep, and I wasn't going to ask anything. She explained it all in her sleep."

"Oh. And no, I do not."

"If you continue this," Danny warns with a smirk, "I should let you know that I pull hair. Also, you do."

Steve grins, slow and wide.

"Go ahead and try. And no, I definitely don't."

Danny throws himself at him without any warning, but Steve's prepared. They have each other by the biceps, and Steve is laughingly fending off Danny's newest assault when the other man drops back, suddenly much smaller.

"Hey, D, you okay? Danno?"

"Yeah, just-"

"That's not what your voice is saying. Your voice says, 'I'm very unwell, Steve.'"

"Was that an impression of me? Please tell me that that was not an impression of me."

"Of course it was, and it was perfect."

"You know what's going to have to be perfect? The plastic surgeon you hire to fix your pretty face once I've finished with it," Danny crows, once again going after Steve.

This time, concern had overrun Steve's survival instincts, so Danny gets a hold of him without as much difficulty as there should have been.

"Ha! SEALs, just a bunch of- Hey!"

Danny'd had the advantage, but between his greater weight, strength, training and ability not to gloat, Steve quickly gets the upper hand.

"What was that, Danno? Something about SEALs?"

"Bunch of late comers!" Danny splutters.

"Late comers? That's the best you can do?"

"Short notice. Give me some time and I'll come up with something better."

Chuckling, Steve shakes his head, prepared for the next round he can see Danny getting ready to start.

As usual, Danny doesn't disappoint... which is when Steve gets into trouble.

It might be from a lack of sleep, or because his body thinks it's much younger, but for whatever reason- most likely the daydreams he'd started having, the ones that so closely resemble the dreams he'd been having at night- as the two of them push and shove each other, unintentionally grinding, then laughing when one or the other takes control, Steve realizes a moment too late that he's gotten hard.

Then he notices that Danny's noticed, and he's never felt his face grow so hot, not even the time he'd been in American history class, playing a review game in preparation for a test on genocide in America during which he'd had to go up to the board and flip two cards in the hopes they'd match- a game at which he'd excelled since his memory had been better than most- only to find he'd gotten one of the reasonless teenage erections and have to fight half his class and the teacher to pass on his turn.

Now, however, he can't pass on his turn and claim a headache. There isn't anything he can do to pretend this isn't happening, and all the answers his brain is giving him are useless because he doesn't want to kill Danny or knock him unconscious.

"Finally! God's sake, McGarrett, you've been taking forever. I was starting to wonder if you'd been lying to me."

Startled, Steve looks down at Danny, whose eyes are wide above a smile he's trying hard to smother.

"Wha- What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the way you talk in your sleep, which I know you do because we share a bed. You said some interesting things, Steven, made a few suggestions I could agree to."

Steve continues to stare at Danny, caught between dumbstruck and mortified.

"You also made a lot of noises, which were probably what made me decide that you weren't making a bad joke... night after night."

"Danny, you can't-!"

Eyebrow raised, Danny's head flops to the side.

"Can't what? Get woken up by you not being quiet? Can't think that I'd like to know what's got you making them? Or can't I think I like them and maybe want to join in?"

Steve dry swallows.

"You can't not be weirded out."

"I turn into a dog, McGarrett, and you think that you getting hard is going to weird me out? This is the most normal thing I've seen you do."

"So you don't hate me?"

"I can honestly guarantee you that hatred is the last thing on my mind right now- unless you're going to keep stalling, in which case, yes, I'm going to hate you. Can we get moving now?"

Danny doesn't wait for Steve to answer, just flips them one more time and leans over, his mouth twisting into a ravenous smile as he pulls Steve's pants down.

"Thought you hated the beach?"

"Hey, genius, they don't all have you, naked and hard, all the time."

Steve doesn't get to share his witty reply because Danny, who'd been studying his face, suddenly ducks down and pops his mouth around the head of Steve's cock.

Smiling proudly as he licks the crown, tongue sliding across the soft, sensitive skin, Danny's gaze switches between Steve's cock and his face. The smile only grows wider as he wipes a sandy hand on his pants- that are actually Steve's, which isn't something Steve should be considering but he is and it isn't helping the fact that he hasn't had sex in months- and wraps it around the base. His hand is warm and large as he strokes up Steve's length, the bits of sand catching and rubbing in a way that half-hurts, half-delights Steve, his hips grinding into Danny'd hand.

Letting go suddenly, Danny pulls back, clearly admiring the sight of Steve writhing on the ground, hands clutching the sand fruitlessly, then drops his mouth back to Steve's cock, which he doesn't return to sucking, in favor of nuzzling and leaving a few kisses on the side, eyes crinkling at the impatient sounds coming from Steve.

Grin still firmly in place, he surprises Steve by sucking the head into his mouth again, tongue flicking along the slit as his head bobs slightly, not taking in more than the very tip.

Moaning, Steve shifts his hips, wanting Danny to do more, and for once, Danny's willing to oblige... in a way. Eyes fluttering shut, he drags his mouth down Steve's cock and presses his tongue just above his fist and licks back up Steve's shaft, then down the side and back to his fist.

His hair flashes in the last rays of daylight, light blond locks catching the light and throwing it as he slides from side to side, his wide tongue fitting like a second skin as he slides it along the vein on the underside, rubs it down the hypersensitive skin behind and around Steve's balls and laps at the head with it.

It's been almost too long for Steve to recognize the warm twist in his belly, and he barely remembers how to get out an urgent, "Danny, gonna-"

Attractive though the self-satisfied smile on Danny's red lips is, it's marred slightly by the fist he has clenched around Steve's cock and the other hand pulling his balls away.

"Ow! Damn it, Danny! Those are sensitive. What are you doing?"

"If you want a lie, then it's because I'm drawing out the pleasure. If you want honesty, it's because it doesn't seem fair, you getting off and me inevitably having to take care of myself because you've gone and fallen asleep."

"Well why don't just _say something_ instead of-"

"You'll remember that I had your dick in my mouth? I can't talk around something solid," Danny says far too reasonably.

"Then would you just do something _before I punch you in the head_ ," Steve snaps, frustrated because he'd been _close_ before Danny'd taken his mouth off, which isn't to forget that his cock's still covered in spit and that there's a breeze that's making things too cold for comfort.

"I suppose I could think of a thing or two," comes Danny's voice, his head hidden by Steve's body.

Then he jumps forward, the pants Steve had definitely seen Danny wearing earlier gone, so as he settles over Steve's thighs, their cocks catch and stick together in a long slide.

"Shit, okay, this is- I won't argue with this, but will you-"

Danny's already got them in a fist and stroking, so Steve stops talking and lets his back arch. It isn't until Danny's voice, irate for a reason Steve can imagine, cuts into the daze that's settled around him that Steve realizes his hands have settled on Danny's ribs.

"What are you doing? You're stopping. Why are you stopping?" Steve asks, confused when Danny's body stops moving against his.

"I'm sorry, what am _I_ doing? _I_ was trying to get off, which is the whole point of what we're doing, wouldn't you say? What the hell are _you_ doing, huh?"

"Keeping you here."

"I'm really not going to go anywhere, babe, so you can let go."

"Can't. They're stuck."

"Get your hands off me, Steve."

Steve shakes his head.

"No can do, Danno."

"Seriously, McGarrett, get off."

He shakes his head again, giving Danny a long look.

Danny gives him one in return, then opens his mouth.

"Unless you want this to happen with Danny the Dog- yes, I heard you call me that _in your sleep-_ the hands are going to have to come off."

"I thought you couldn't-"

"Willingly, no, but sex is one of those things that messes with instinct and floods my brain with all sorts of things that make it short out and, if you don't get your hands off me, create a switch, and since situational switches like this become habits, you'll wind up only having sex with a dog. Is that really what you want?"

Steve stares at him, mouth open, but decides that talk of dogs and situational switches can wait. For now, his hands are just going to have to stay on the sand, even if he doesn't like it.

He's trying to get back into a happy mindset when he feels his hands get picked up and put together behind his head, both held there by one of Danny's hands.

"Didn't you just say-"

"I said _you_ couldn't have your hands on _me_ , not the other way around," Danny says with lecherous smile.

"Oh. Does this mean we're continuing, then?"

"Are you aware of how stupid you get when you have sex? Yes, we're continuing. What else are we going to do? Just lie here and-"

"Technically, you're sitting."

"I hope one of the fish you love so much gets caught in your pants next time you go swimming."

"Daniel," Steve says with as much authority as he can command.

"Yes, yes, I'm coming, dear."

"I was hoping for that an hour ago."

Danny doesn't reply, his mind having been directed to something lower and more pressing.

They slide against each other slowly at first, Danny's face a mask of concentration, but something suddenly changes in him. He falls forward, barely catching himself before crashing into Steve's face, one arm braced on the sand, but the other keeps its close grip on their cocks. He rights himself, but his eyes are closed as he runs his hand up and down them.

It happens a second time a few moments later, though, Danny's entire body convulsing for a moment, after which he lets his forehead drop against Steve's chin, even as his hips grind harder and harder, hand tightening to the brink of pain, and there's a desperation in his face that reminds Steve of a dog rutting against his leg.

...which suddenly becomes a much more fitting metaphor- if not an appropriate one, given the circumstances- when he remembers that Danny probably _is_ a dog rutting. Between his single-minded determination to get off as quickly as possible and out of character lack of concern for Steve, it makes sense.  
  
If he thinks of it as Danny coming undone, though, there's no element of disgust. He's just having sex with an intense guy, not a dog. It's a hand on his dick and a human one rubbing against him. There aren't any paws or tails, just Danny's wide shoulders, warm hand and fluttering belly.

"Steve, a little help?" Danny's voice comes out closer to a whimper than annoyed, and it makes Steve smile.

"What do you want, D?"

"Your hand-" A hand grabs his- "here-" puts it between Danny's dick and his abs- "and _contributing, you lazy son of a bitch."_

The anger can't be anything but Daniel Williams, so Steve smiles when he strokes up and hears a long moan.

Danny's longer and slightly thicker than he is, but it doesn't take much for him to figure out what Danny likes: absolutely any kind of contact, firm or gentle, fast or slow. He prefers fast and firm, but if Steve's hand slows, the only noise he makes is a happy sigh.

Fully absorbed in taking Danny apart, Steve hasn't noticed that Danny's been doing the same for him, so it's with an, "Oh," of surprise that he catches himself just before his orgasm hits him, eyes flying open as he spills on Danny's hand and watches it get smeared into their belly.

Panting, Danny throws his head back, his breaths coming short and shallow, every muscle coiled tightly.

Beaming at him, Steve drops his hand and watches as Danny's expression changes from desperate to furious.

"This isn't funny, McGarrett. If you don't your hand back, I'm-"

Struggling to keep his smile from getting too smug, Steve grabs Danny's cock again. He takes a moment to fondle the blond's balls, enjoying the way Danny shudders and whimpers.

As Steve's hand slides to the sensitive skin behind them, Danny's eyes fly open and he starts to pant heavily, desperate whimpers filling Steve's ears.

Deciding to take pity on him, Steve's hand slowly inches back to Danny's cock and pulls. It takes barely two strokes to get Danny off, and when he does, there's surprisingly little to see but plenty to feel. Danny slumps until he's spread across Steve, his eyes falling closed as he spills. Tremors, heavy at first, then slowly lighter, make him shake, his belly and arms in particular, hands gripping Steve tightly as he comes down.

Watching with interest- the first time is always informative- Steve doesn't mean to fall asleep, but when Danny's body finally stills, his vision goes dark.

* * *

Danny shakes him awake, the moonlight barely making the pants in his hands visible.

"I don't know about you, but I really don't want to open the paper and find a picture of us naked."

"They've probably already taken plenty."

"Please, I beg of you, never say that again."

Once they've shimmied into their pants, bodies uncomfortable with sweat and other things, they head back to the house, their bodies too tired to go further than the couch. Showering will have to wait

At some point during the trek, Danny's face had taken on a dark, thoughtful expression, but as they curl up together on the couch, it's replaced by the biggest grin Steve's ever seen. It stretches Danny's lips and makes his wrinkles deepen, but the effect is a younger Danny, rather than an older one.

"So I had a thought."

Groaning good naturedly, Steve sighs.

"Already? You can't just bask in this?"

"I can, but I had an idea I wanted to share."

"This better be good, or you're going to end up wearing what I'm wearing... and it'll be on your face."

"You're absolutely disgusting, but I'm pretty sure it is. See... according to your sleep-talking-"

"Which I don't do."

"-that you definitely do, this is something you're planning to last for a while, which I would have to say is a good plan. The problem is, though, that unless we tell the team about me- which is a bad idea because while the Romans will put up with one guy who knows a bit too much, a whole group isn't going to fly- they're going to know Danny the Dog, but I'd rather we keep this between Steve and Danny the Humans."

"All right. What's your plan, then?"

"Lots and lots of morning sex. Instead of holding the post-coital dog at bay, I'll just let him come to the surface. If you wear me out enough during work- and I already regret that sentiment, actually, which worries me- I'll become human during the first sleep I get post day-with-Steve, which if we're smart and make a nap, then there's plenty of-"

"But I like you as a dog. You talk less."

"I hate you. So much."

"Nah, you love me."

"It's hatred, really," Danny mumbles, but he snuggles closer anyway, craning his neck for a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1"Dare ga desu ka?" (Dah ray gah dayss[ay as in day and ss as in snake] kah) = "Who is it?"/"Who's there?"  
> 2"Bokutachi!" (Boa'[Oa is pronounced as it is in boat]kootahchee) = "We (are)!"  
> 3"E... to... Kimi wa dare da ka?" (Eh [as in, empty]... toa... Kee'mee wah dahray dah kah) = "Um... and... Who are you?"  
> 4"Kodomo!" (Koa'doamoa) = "Children!"  
> 5"Anata wa deguchi o sanshō shite imasu ka? Sore tomo... doa?" (Ah'nahtah wah day'goo[as in tool]chee oa sahn'shoa-oo shee'tay ee'mahsoo kah? Soa'ray toamoa... doa'ah) = "Can you see an exit? Or... a door?"  
> 6"Iie," (Eeyeh) = "No."
> 
> The pronunciation is a little odd, I'll admit, but the official pronunciation keys baffle me. The h's aren't pronounced, just there to denote a soft vowel sound, and strictly speaking the word is desu (dayssoo) but the oo gets dropped, except when it doesn't. The apostrophes (') indicate the stressed symbol.
> 
> It's been a very long time since I spoke Japanese- which was more what I did, concentrated on speaking, rather than writing- so if I'm off (which I'm sure I am but don't have contact with anyone who speaks it better...) feel free to leave a little comment with your correction- preferably with an explanation, too, since I'd like to address the mistake in my thought process rather than just in this. (Separating particles is something I did because, well, "desu ka" looks better than "desuka."
> 
> And yes, Steve does speak informally- as does the boy- but I figured that with the situation being what it was, breaking the rules of familiarity would be all right.
> 
> The voice in the dream Steve has during the final case is the [last radio call](http://www.funeralwise.com/customs/police/definitions).  
> 
> On a separate note, here's the address of a [site](http://www.dogbreedinfo.com/americanpitbull.htm) that has information about American Pit Bull Terriers/Staffordshire Terriers, for further reading, if you're interested.


End file.
